Imagine this: you're in art school. Your art history professor has begun a tangent on Chariots of the Gods and how all his craziest students are racist and recommend the book. Fair enough. You're dying of boredom. You start doodling all over your notes, because that's what bored artists do when they're bored. All your best ideas come to you when you're a captive audience. Then you flip the page and keep trying to focus on ziggurats.
Years later, you're sobbing and cramming for an exam while reading a novel and writing an essay to accompany the workshop curriculum you're building at the same exact time. Simultaneously. Your future husband is yodeling with the cat while animating a commercial for his company. You break. You want to be creative too. The idea starts eating away at your brain like an amoeba. That doodle in your notebook is waiting for you and you tell yourself your reward for finishing everything by midnight is to paint that stupid doodle.
That's the only reason this painting is called Daydreaming. It's one of my absolute favorites. When I'm stressed my mind ends up taking me to the bottom of the ocean to chill out.
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