I had the payoff. After struggling for another few hours with the damn trees, I dabbed in a little blue spot that looked right and my brain zinged. That’s why people paint; looking for that feeling when you lay down one color next to the other and it just looks right. It would have been nice for that mark to be bigger than a tiny blob in the background, but I’ll take it.
Fed up with trees, I started a second painting. This one was a big mess, but I liked the colors, and it got me painting in a way I don’t usually. It still looks aggravatingly as if I painted it, which is the worst. I only like my paintings if I can come back to them later and think, huh? How did that happen? The ones that somehow paint themselves are better.
Added a few more heads to my studies and then went out for a sloppy mess of haggis fries with gravy and a pint of cider. Good day.
I’m taking this last day off to sightsee, shop, and pack up. Ready to see my kids and sleep in a comfortable bed again.
I think you have described the artistic process perfectly. When something "other" than the artist seems to take over to their amazement.
ReplyDeleteWith hours and hours and hours and hours of the investment of time and work. I'm not saying this well but I'm sure you know what I mean.
I love the little portraits so much.