Stretched and sized 2 more large canvases over the weekend, a brutally physical process in which I impart a substantial amount of my DNA into my work. Let's just say that there will be no disputing authentic Rico's from fakes.
With aching hands and scraped-up knuckles this morning I look across the studio at pure possibility; there's something so beautiful about a blank canvas; especially so with two.
I complain about location. I do this too much, though it is certainly a factor. The biggest limitation on me, -on anyone, is myself. While I step up my game every time I walk into this space to work, I hesitate outside these walls. There is no one coming to find me, of this I am absolutely certain. It is not even that rejection bothers me so much any more, I think it is simply that natural human tendency to resist change and to avoid the unknown. What if I were incredibly successful? What would come with that? How would my life need to change and am I prepared to make those changes?
Yes.
Looking at this big black painting I see something really amazing and to an extent magical. The fact I live with it day after day and that this quality is not diminishing says something about where I've gone with it. Where I'm going is still unknown; and that's the real magic.
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