Two weeks ago I painted a decent size piece (24 x 32) and the whole thing flowed. I felt good about it from beginning to end, and still do, which is rare – frequently it takes me some distance of time to like a painting. The new image is now gracing my website homepage. (It needs a title – suggestions??)
This past week I painted another largish piece, and it was a struggle the whole way through – the image kept needing adjustments in proportions and relationships. By Friday afternoon I was just slapping the paint on to ‘complete’ it, tired of the fight I was having with the damn thing.
My husband came up to see the painting and raved about it. It’s nice that someone else likes it, but I doubt it’ll ever see a frame and gallery. A week of painting with nothing to show for it. Howzcum I can do something that works so well and turn right around and fall off the horse?
It’s weeks like this that make me think life would be so much easier if I were flipping burgers or washing cars or doing some other kind of honest labor.Tags: artist angst