Its funny the things that can make you get up, put clothes on and actually start talking to people.
I guess for most people its their alarm clock, or someone next to them snoring loudly so they want to get up asap.
Today I got up because my mum was hoovering outside my bedroom (subtle she is not), had my breakfast, and then crawled back to bed. Not into bed. Just on it... . Black dog had completely taken over and I was unable to move, speak, anything. Blanket was firmly over my head and my mind was spinning out of control. I was taken over by darkness. Where I stayed for the next 3 hours.
I'm still not feeling exactly peachy now, but I am a lot better than this morning. And it was this painting that brought me back.
Now I am very aware that I am one of those annoying people who loves art history and will always defend paintings when others say, "I could do that myself, all they've done is pour blue paint on a canvas." Sometimes I forget that I spent 3 years at university dissecting masterpieces and loving every minute of it. But I promise I am not going to get all arty farty, and start spouting about how wonderful the painting is, and how it makes me feel.
Because quite simply, I don't need to, this painting can speak for itself....