The Daily Rambling Artist: Midnight Musings: Rascals, Reading, and Paint Spills

Late night is pretty much the only time I can comfortably talk on the phone in my house full of young, vibrant rascals. My dear childhood friend, Steve, is usually the one who makes the midnight call, and I’m always happy to catch up and reminisce while I spill paint in the studio.

Recently, he reminded me of our college days when my nose was literally always buried in a book. It's funny how we don't always perceive ourselves as others do. His retelling prompted me to recount how I used to believe that such ample reading time would never visit me again. The sounds of my kids in the house right now, as I attempt to write this entry, only reaffirm this belief – a testament to the worries I used to have back in college.

With a pang of physical discomfort, I recall a significant move in my twenties, as I struggled to carry no fewer than thirty boxes of books. All of those boxes were quite the sight, and I remember asking my mom why she hadn't pushed me to play outside more as a kid.

I find myself missing those reading hours. It dawns on me that this daily habit of writing likely has its roots in those precious reading moments. Audiobooks as an alternative have been suggested to me a lot, and while I do dabble now and then, it's not the same as engaging with the written word; listening and processing is a different muscle.

Late nights, kids or no kids, will always be a creative sanctuary. As daylight fades, I’m thankful for the countless ideas that have sprung forth, inspired by the eclectic tapestry of influences in those texts that frustrated those around me. I extend a heartfelt expression of gratitude to the unconventional, book-devouring version of my college self. Thank you for kindling the flames of curiosity and imagination, and for providing me with this precious creative ammunition.

-Sergio Santos