These are the things I attempt to do on a regular basis:
Ink sketches, weekly
Yoga, twice weekly
Dance class, weekly
Drum lesson, weekly
Dress sewing, monthly
The sewing is happening because I love fabric. The inks are a matter of finding materials I swoon over, and trying to train my hands to do what my eye reports. I work from photographs I take on walks.
Yoga assists the dance, which is a rigorous form. Drumming is in the beginning stages and I am working towards song composition.
None of it feels like art yet. It all feels like discipline and practice. Or maybe the idea that art is some elevated form that arises out of a disciplined base just might be delusion?