TOO AUTHENTIC FOR YOU?

TOO AUTHENTIC FOR YOU?

work in progress, hiding from the world

When I think about what to write about, I generally have no idea. I do not schedule my posts. I do not have a weekly nor monthly planner. I barely know what day it is. I do not have an agenda. It is very organic, and very ahem, authentic. 

And there is that word. The word that I keep being told makes people want to buy from you, read you, want to engage with you.

BE AUTHENTIC!

It is a big buzz word, the zeitgeist. 

But what does it really mean?

A few days ago, a lady I know messaged me and asked me a few questions about blogging. One of them was WHY DO I BLOG? She wondered if it was to promote my art, was it to sell? 

In all honesty initially I may have thought that it would help my art business and may help me to sell my work. But I really do not now if it does. Is this a bad thing? Have YOU ever bought art from me because of my blog? Probably not. 

Do I care? I should, but honestly, authentically...no! 

Because I found out that I just enjoy writing. And I found out that when I have not written for awhile, I miss it. I am happy when I publish a post!

There have been times I have not blogged, sometimes for ages. Because I was living life. Because I might have been overwhelmed, with good things, with bad things, with truly shitty things. With THINGS.

I wish I could tell you that in my authentic world, it is all wonderful. And it is, in its own way. 

happy homes   watercolour

But... authentically, I tell you I am sitting here in mismatched pyjamas and ugg boots, my armpits are a bit pongwhiffy, my hair looks like a birds nest, I have a pimple on my nose, and bags under my eyes. My son is in the kitchen  and he has barely spoken to me all day (headphones glued to his ears.) 

And the kitchen is a mess, as is the lounge room. Little piles of dust and cat hair are congregating in the corners, and cobwebs hang like organic lace. The white walls, (having spent hours choosing the RIGHT WHITE)now a few years later are almost more army camouflage that I would care to admit.

the styled desk... but not today

And I did NOT sit in my sun filled beautiful, clean home, looking lovely and gorgous inspirational perfectly styled studio, painting all day. With a cat on the windowsill, and a vase of freshly foraged flowers in a cool little bottle on my desk. And perched elegantly on a stool in linen artist apron, with my hair just so. No. 

Instead I sat in my pyjamas, banging on my computer keyboard, answering emails all day, and editing photos, and messaging people, doing some washing, and doing a quick clean of my ensuite. 

The ensuite. Because my science experiment of waiting to see what colours and tones the slime around the taps may change too next had already gone through the full rainbow spectrum. 

Another experiment was also happening around the state of the ensuite, this time in human behaviour. 

I  was seeing if during two weeks of holidays when the whole family is home, whether anyone else would look at this same sink and feel compelled to clean it...
(the answer is NO). 

My hypothesis that it would not be cleaned proved correct. And my hypothesis I would end up almost retching when I brushed my teeth if it was not cleaned SOON, also proved correct. Hence, I cleaned it today.  

dream house

No-one needs to know or wants to this kind of REAL AUTHENTIC STUFF. It is too real, too authentic.

So I will spare you the photos that should probably accompany this blog. I am concerned for your mental health, and do not want you to need counselling from the shock of it. 

real comfort  watercolour

So instead I will give you pictures that show how much I do still love my home, even if it is messy. So instead I will bid you adieu, go and clean my kitchen, hug my son, and go to bed. After squeezing that pimple. My life is pretty wonderful really. And I mean that AUTHENTICALLY.