When I was living in New York, I had this slightly wannabe bohemian existence and took up painting, at which I'm appalling. I also bought several guitars.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
As a teenager I started painting and playing guitar.
I saw the Village as a place you could escape to, to express yourself. When I first went there, I wrote and performed poetry. Then I drew portraits for a couple of years. It took a while before I thought about picking up a guitar.
I was constantly being around artists and Bohemian types.
My grandfather gave me my first guitar, an old acoustic with palm trees and dancing girls painted on it.
I want to paint. That is probably going to sound so pretentious coming from someone who's been a musician.
I realised the bohemian life was not for me. I would look around at my friends, living like starving artists, and wonder, 'Where's the art?' They weren't doing anything. And there was so much interesting stuff to do, so much fun to be had... maybe I could even quit renting.
So I played the acoustic guitar and harmonica and stomped my foot and I think I was right in assuming that Greenwich Village would be the best place to perform my own material and possibly get some attention, move on to making records and all.
When I picked up the guitar for the first time, it opened up a whole new world for me. I became obsessed with writing and playing.
My guitarist husband, Mike, and writer me are the old-fashioned kind of bohemians. Not 'fro-haired hipsters gyrating in iPod ads, but the sort who, starting January 1 of every year, literally don't know where their next dime is coming from.
My look is a Modern Bohemian type thing.
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