Day 189, Canvas 35

A few hundred dollars worth of paint arrived today as anticipated. At the day job, I completed a major portion of a massive project and for the first time in the past two months I feel some momentary sense of closure there. I read an artist's blog post about how painters, unlike most other professionals, sometimes (ok, often) find themselves in the midst of their work feeling like they have never done it before. Replenishing supplies is like that for me; it is almost like having to re-learn everything again. The first few paintings out of a fresh tube of paint are never as good as the ones you're squeezing the life and remnants out of. I have no idea why.

There's three paintings on the wall tonight, and they are shimmering like bodies of water inviting me to shed my clothes and jump in the country lake somewhere in Kansas where everything began to feel new and free so very, very long ago. They are nothing yet, this process involves massive amounts of what becomes underpainting. And yet, true to the current rules of engagement in these walls, they are lovely and it will be hard to paint them out. In the end, that's what will hopefully make them good.

So 15 canvases left; it feels strange. I had no time line. I have lived the process and that is the success of them to an extent. I've come somewhere, and I still have places to take it too.