Erm, as to what it is. Well. I'll just put that to one side right now. As to what it's inspiring me to do, that brings up another issue. I want to decorate the walls with art. I want to be surrounded by it. I need it. I want photos, sketches, clippings - the whole nine yards. I want the studio environment I left behind 2 years ago.
But. Oh, yes, there's a but. These aren't my walls. This isn't my house. I'm limited to what I can display and where I can display it. I'm feeling cramped, hemmed in and confined. I can feel this tingle growing into a buzz... but that buzz is going to have to stay locked inside.
If I want my own place then the most logical step would be to sell some more of my work. Ask any artist what that feels like. "Sure, i'll part with a painting I spent 3 days slaving over. I'll readily exchange those hours of agonised perfection for a measly amount of cash. I'll hand it over to someone I don't know. Never to see it again. Sure. I'll do that..." Just incase you hadn't got it pegged, that was sarcasm, kids.
It's not a good situation, the old catch 22.
I fear I might spontaneously combust.