rough re-entry and yet ANOTHER figure painting

I incubated every germ in the airport and then spent the next week coughing them all up, laying on the couch like a big sad wet thing. The workshop taught me so much that I suddenly realized I couldn't actually paint at all. The only people who get things done are the ones who do the things. Got up, drank a quart of Robitussin, and then tried to paint a little portrait of a friend's kid as a gift. Painted a blue and pink pig creature, instead. Threw it in the garbage and collapsed back onto the couch to watch Longmire and bury myself in snot tissues. The next day, the mail carrier dropped a thick envelope on my GO AWAY mat, and I opened it up to find the pad of Dura-lar sheets I had ordered on my phone while Elizabeth Zanzinger was halfway through recommending them (I'm that student). These sheets are good for painting on, she explained, because they are cheap enough that you can bang out lots of studies without getting precious about them, but they are also archival, so if you actually like something, it will last forever and all you have to do is frame it.

I put the Dura-lar on the table and went back to my nest of tissues. All my brushes are garbage, anyway, I thought. The next day, the mail carrier showed up and dropped a box on my GO AWAY mat. This box contained one perfect paint brush.

I'm pretty stupid about hints, but I got this one, so I crawled off the couch and up to the table and painted.

Been feeling a little self-conscious about all the figure paintings I've been posting lately, and waffled a bit about whether to hide them behind a link for people who are at work, but meeeeeh. This is a  blog, that's what it's for.

So SHIELD YOUR EYES, because here's another one.

I'm about to start another longer-term portrait. Any time now. Zenny took a trip across the sidewalk on her face, and we are waiting for the scabs to peel off before setting up another pose.