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A review by t_juniper
Living Color: Painting, Writing, and the Bones of Seeing by Natalie Goldberg
2.0
I think I have to stop read art books by ladies from New Mexico (an oddly specific genre I've seemed to have hit on this year). I kept having the same feeling reading this as I did reading 'the artists way' earlier this year.
Sooo many chapters of both start with versions of 'As I sit in my perfectly sunlit Taos studio, pondering my latest zen retreat (or month in Europe, or pilgrimage to Matisse's studio), I consider what it means to be an artist.'
I'm sure it's meant to be inspiring, but I find it utterly unrelatable to my everyday life as a budding artist in the midst of a life full of other - non-art based - realities.
Sooo many chapters of both start with versions of 'As I sit in my perfectly sunlit Taos studio, pondering my latest zen retreat (or month in Europe, or pilgrimage to Matisse's studio), I consider what it means to be an artist.'
I'm sure it's meant to be inspiring, but I find it utterly unrelatable to my everyday life as a budding artist in the midst of a life full of other - non-art based - realities.