Because I live in a multilingual environment, certain expressions may suddenly appear strange, odd, and bizarre to me. I am indeed feeling pressed, as in squeezed...for time. The image in my head must have something to do with making "fresh-pressed" orange juice every day. The lines blur between words and images.
So being pressed means making use of small amounts of time, as we all know.
In an attempt to clean out some papers, I ran across a small instruction manual. Just as it landed in the waste basket, it occurred to me that the paper wasn't shiny and the small size pleased me. So I rescued it and re-considered.
Or maybe it was the name "Rainbow" on the cover that caught my eye.
As my watercolors sit on the dining room table lately [yeah, I eat with my materials--no kids around and my husband gave up fighting it long ago], I talked myself into grabbing a few minutes before or after dinner to throw around paint.
The first page was a bit on the quiet side, but that didn't last for long.
I try to stick to a wide flat brush (1") so as not to get picky about detail.
Just playing, laying down colors, no expectations.
Thinking about how to interpret these into fabric...now there's a pleasant thought that could occupy me for hours.