Soon you’ll get better.

I’ll get better soon. I’ll get free from my psychological binds.

I’ll be free to express myself more than I already do.

I’m going to this here for my sake. Something for me to look back on when I need the confidence to do better art.

This has been coming for a long time now and I know it is something that I must do.

Going to Spain, seeing some of the art from a Master, Picasso, gave me the inspiration to break free from my old mindset of what art is.

Last night, I came across a Story from an Artist that I follow on Instagram, redhongyi.

Here’s her story.

I cried.

Tears flowed.

It meant so much to me. It hit me so hard.

I cried.

Tears.

What she captured in her story has been something that I’ve been struggling with my art for a while now. It’s something that was hard-set in my mind when I was younger.

It wasn’t until I started to do more art now, at my age, that I realized that I need to stop.

There’s a limitation and fear in me that if it doesn’t look like what I set out to paint or draw, then it’s a failure.

It’s hard.

All my art that I’ve done for this project, I have tried to replicate from a source picture. I’ve done a few more abstract pieces where I’m learning how to use the software and tool, but that’s about it.

I’m starting to learn to break free from the photorealism mentality of what art should be.

Being in Spain, seeing the art, and some of the works by Picasso, helped me realize that I don’t have to focus on the resemblance of what I’m trying to paint or replicate. I just need to present an idea of it and that should transcend what I’m trying to paint.

It’s a hard lesson I’m trying to learn. It’s a problem I’m fighting to overcome.

I’m starting to break free, but I’m not there.

I don’t know if I’m starting to break free because I’m tired of my work not looking like what I’m trying to do or I’m that I’m okay with it not looking like it and liking that it has some resemblance of it.

I don’t know.

I really don’t.

I find it fascinating that I had the same thought of art like mom’s when I was younger. At the Prado museum in Madrid, mom was looking at a big painting of The Animals entering Noah’s Ark and she mentioned that she like this kind of art better than what she saw at the Picasso museum.

When she said, “this kind of art”, she meant Renaissance art because it depicts a realistic view of the subjects and what is being painted. She understands and see what’s being painted.

With Picasso, she doesn’t understand what he’s doing. She doesn’t understand cubism. She can’t figure out what she’s looking at.

I was that way. I loved the old modern Renaissance art because of that. The realistic nature of the piece.

Now, I’m bored. I’m bored with the Renaissance.

I’m bored with the life-like depiction and rendition of the piece.

Give me some modern art. Give me some cubism. Give me some abstract.

Give me something different.

Maybe I’m just looking for some inspiration or some affirmation that I don’t have to fully replicate a true-to-life exactitude to what I’m painting.

I should take liberties with my work. I should interpret what I see to something else.

I’m trying.

I’m trying.

I’m 40 and I’m trying.

I’m 40 and I’m still learning.

It’s tough. It’s new.

It’s different.

Maybe I should just embrace the faults in my work. In a way I do. In a way I do consider some of the work finish and be like fuck it, I’m done.

I’ll publish it because it’s part of the project.

It’s all a work in progress.

I’m still finding my voice.

I’m still finding my style.

I’m still new at this.

I’m so used to trying to get the details right. Trying to finesse the painting to what it should be like that I get frustrated when it isn’t. Then I move on, not satisfied, like I’m giving up.

I’m learning to let it go and embracing it.

Seeing some of Picasso’s work and realizing that he doesn’t care about the details and the finesse gives me confidence that I shouldn’t too.

Seeing how he drew a man’s hand like bubbly loopy hand fingers similar to a kid’s drawing gives me strength to move the fuck on and not worry about perfection and accuracy.

I’m hooked.

I need more.

I need to see more work. I need to see more artists.

I need to do a deep dive into more artists so I can get more confirmation and affirmation that I’m doing okay with my work.

It’s not good, but it’s okay. Good will come later with practice and a voice and a passion.

Be okay.

So, thank you Red Hong Yi and Picasso for giving me the strength to move away from the idea that “art” should be an accurate reflection of your subject.

Fuck it.

Fuck it, indeed.

Back.

Back from the far distant lands of Espana.

Spain.

Love.

Two weeks of rest. Two weeks of exploring. Two weeks of vacation.

Break.

Vacation.

It was a much-needed break from everything. It was a much needed break from work.

Break.

Back.

Spain.

What can I say?

It was a great trip.

I got to see and explore many of the cities that we went to.

The downside, the first week of the trip was raining.

It rained for most of our stay in Barcelona and Madrid.

I wished the weather was nicer so we could have explored more. I don’t think I can make a fair comparison on which city I loved best because of it, but at the moment, given how things work, I would pick Seville to be my favorite.

Everywhere was very walkable.

They didn’t have a metro system unlike Barcelona and Madrid, but they did have a shuttle system that we didn’t use.

We walked everywhere.

The narrow European streets were everywhere and I’m in love with each and every one of them.

I also think the food was much better in Seville. They were some of the most memorable.

I would love to go back again, to explore more, to see more, to get away from the touristy now that I’ve seen them all.

My bro planned the trip, so there were a lot of touristy stuff, but it’s all right. I’m there. I’m exploring.

That’s all that matters.

I get to walk the streets and document wherever we went.

I hope the pictures turn out okay. That’s what I’m worried about the most.

I felt it wasn’t my best.

We shall see.

Family.

It was definitely some family time. 2 weeks of family.

That’s a lot.

My bro didn’t get on my nerves like he would normally do.

My mom did. I can understand where she’s coming from, but can’t.

She’s young, she shouldn’t be so tired all the time.

We’ll go visit an attraction and by early afternoon, she’ll be tired so she stays in the hotel for the rest of the day. Depending on the weather, she may or may not get dinner.

It is what it is.

It’s her money.

It’s her life.

I wish she’d done more or was more game.

But, on the bright side, she showed up. She did go with us.

Win?

Win.

The food.

THE FOOD.

Holly hell.

The food.

The food was amazing.

The tapas were amazing.

Most everything that we ate were great. They were excellent and definitely gave me a lot of new inspiration and ideas of how to do new meals and new dishes.

My favorite dish is probably tripe stew with chickpeas. It’s both funky and delicious at the same time.

My favorite type of combination.

I’ve eaten everything and things that I normally wouldn’t eat like Chocolate.

I’ve had so many churros and chocolate that I’m like, who the hell am I.

The chocolate wasn’t sweet. There’s a hint of sweetness. The rest is just chocolate flavor. Slightly bitter.

That I can get down with.

Food.

Ahh, the food.

I have so many pictures to upload.

I’ve had paella once before at the farmer’s market and, I made it once. They both didn’t impress me much, but when I had it in Madrid, I was sold.

I need more paella in my life. I need more paella with the garlic aioli.

Tomato bread. Who would have thought that light crispy baguette rubbed with tomato would be so good?

I think that it had more to deal with the crispy bread than anything else, but holy fuck, they were amazing. It was only in Barcelona and Madrid that the bread was great. Didn’t eat much after that.

In Granada and Seville, it was mostly table bread that I’ve tried, except for the toast for the pheasant pate. That was yum.

Empanadas were great too. They weren’t like the ones I had, where the crust was bready. It was more like Japanese pan croquettes.

Yum.

I think the funniest thing about our eating habits was that we didn’t include any salads until our end of Madrid, which was about halfway through the trip.

I needed some leafy greens or some kind of salad in my diet. I was protein-ed out. Too much meat.

Who would have thought, me, too much meat?

Another fascinating thing regarding our eating habits is that everyone thought we’d order too much food. But it wasn’t. We have eating habits of Americans.

We’re fat. We’re obese.

Plus, I kept to my IF schedule. Instead of OMAD, I did a 16/8. I skipped breakfast but gorged for lunch and dinner. Sometimes, we’d even skip lunch.

So, famished.

I think the one meal that we struggled was our first dinner in Madrid. It was a lot of meat.

Like, meat. All meat and carbs.

A lot.

Sigh.

Spain.

Great food.

Inspired me to make many of the dishes that I tried or inspired me to make some version of it.

Off.

Off to the world that surrounds me.

Off to the sky, high up above.

Off to a far distant land.

Espana.

Spain.

Vacation.

Fucking holy hell, it’s been a year and a much much deserved break.

The year’s been challenging, but I think I’ve had worse.

We’ve been trudging along on this project and there’s some semblance of it being finished that brightens my mood.

Stress will always be there, but it’s not this pressing damage that I feel.

There’s not hovering pressure to get things right, especially when it comes to SharePoint.

The migration is going, and I’ve moved quite a few sites.

It’s trudging along and there aren’t any slowdowns or issues.

I dropped Pickles off this morning and my flight isn’t until 6:25.

Mom and my bro won’t arrive until 3pm, but I am to be at the airport around 2 or 2:30 to just chill, grab some food, and make sure that I get through security and get our tickets without any issues.

I like to plan, get there early so I can deal with any problems.

It should be simple and easy to get the ticket, but I’m paranoid.

I hate stressing.

So, I’m just chilling.

Load up on some podcasts or might even start a book. Do something different. No idea.

Just chill.

Spain.

I have no expectations.

I don’t know what to expect.

All I know is that I’m excited to go. I’m excited to explore and chill with mom for a European vacation.

There are some worries about what’s planned and how much mom can do and walk.

She’s healthy.

She should be fine.

I’ll try and control my annoyance. I have no patience for a lot of things, and I know those are things that I need to work on.

Things to work on.

That’s my life.

The story of my life.

So many many things to work on.

I want to experience their food.

I want to experience their wine.

Traveling is all about experiences.

I buy experiences.

I don’t buy things.

Waste of money.

Trinkets and things are objects that your joy for will eventually fade.

Experiences are ingrained in your body, your soul; leaving you with a deep impression and nostalgic memories.

I still remember my time in China. The awe of my first international trip.

I remember the joy and foreign-ness of Tokyo and its magical neon and all things Japanese.

I remember the pang in my heart of seeing the country where I was born but have no memories of. The joy and wonder of seeing the old family house or being the old village that my parents and family grew up in.

Travel.

Experience.

Joy.

Spain.

I didn’t plan the trip.

I didn’t plan any of the European trip.

My bro did.

I’m okay with all the things that we’re doing.

Museums.

Art.

Culture.

Things to pass the time. Things to do to explore and experience what Spain is.

I look forward to it.

I look forward to the food.

I know my bro got things all mapped out on food and such.

I hope my mom would be okay with everything.

I hope my mom would be game.

I hope my mom could keep up.

But we shall see.

If not, we’ll amend.

We’ll adjust.

Life is just adjustments here and there.

I’m off.

I’m glad.

Vacation.

Much deserved.

Bring it.