My Muse

       DEGAS has been my muse for the last few weeks as I practice Master paintings. Admittedly, the first one I attempted was just sad, but that's ok. It reassures me to know I have lots of
       Looking down for hours I got a pain in my neck. This week I set up my French easel. It's
A LITTLE COZY in my studio room now. It feels busy and exciting. 
When I'm tired of one project I jump over to the other. It's very efficient.
       The second attempt at a Degas painting was much better.  It's a little challenging painting on a primed watercolor tablet. The acrylic paint is giving me some agony. It wants to stick and not move at all. I've considered going back to oils. As you can imagine, 
a copious amount of muttering accompanies this painful process. I may dig out a
BERET to wear today. 
Then, I can pull my little French cap from my head,
and wave my hands madly at the ceiling when the paints aren't cooperating. 
I may mutter French things . . . 

Ok, I can't think of any French things to mutter. 

I’ll growl.  

Today, I'll attempt a Degas ballerina painting. 
I may
or may not
wear a mustache.