Finished Painting, new studio easel, and Wuthering Heights.

I finished my painting. It took three days of Ritalin to do it, but now I’m finally done with that damn plastic suit. The goggles were tricky to render but a welcome change from painting wrinkles. I’ve been working on it so long I can’t even tell if I like it or not anymore. Tomorrow I shall start my drawing practice and try to revive my skill over the next few months. I’m going to be really, really rusty to begin with.

I got a new studio easel that previously belonged to my uncle and is an upgrade from my last one. It’s a Mabef and I checked how much it was worth. A new one costs 970 dollars on Amazon! What I’m really excited about is that it has wheels. That means I can easily move it out of the way when I’m not using it. I’m glad my house has high ceilings because the back of it can’t be lowered and it’s really high up.

I’ve really gotten into Wuthering Heights. It’s wild and raw and beautiful. Though I’ve read it five times before, I always discover something new to love about it. Out of all the Bronte books, Wuthering Heights is my favorite. Charlotte’s Jane Eyre is great too, I’ve read it many times as well, but it doesn’t have the untamed power of Emily’s book. Love is fierce and terrible in Wuthering Heights and most of the characters are generally horrible people which seems at odds with literature of that time.

You aren’t rooting for anyone in that book aside from maybe Cathy’s daughter towards the very end. Nellie, the old servant who is telling the story and the tenant who is introduced as the listener are more likable I suppose, but they are just tools to tell the tales of the less sympathetic characters. Heathscliff is a monster of a man and Cathy is not much better. Poor Edgar Linton got caught up in it all. He’s portrayed as a bit weak as a person, but not bad natured like his wife and Heathscliff. His sister is a brat, but didn’t deserve the horrible treatment she experienced after marrying. There’s a lot of really graphic domestic abuse in this book. Jane Eyre also had domestic abuse, but it’s not nearly as violent as in Wuthering Heights.