ramblings on process and death

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and there are the nights where I'd rather go to bed at 8:30 than drag myself to the studio.  then I go; and more often than not there is some reward.  it may be fleeting.  it may only end in frustration, but the time's never wasted.

the rigors of painting, this thing I call my practice,  arise out of action and release; call and response.  tonight - a formidable image, and then, just as easily it was gone.  the painting is fragile and the thing can crumble before the artist's eyes.  weeks, months, even years, then..gone.  I love that every decision negates certain future options, and equally, that each mark provides opportunity for another -often unexpected mark.

so one works through it.  perhaps a vista, or prayer, or experience emerges and then before you is the reason for all the doubt and hours spent alone attempting to bring and to listen and see.

for me, my process has blind periods where I must wait.  working wet I have allow drying and allow the paint to explore and overflow and retreat.  I come in the next day to see what moves have been made; sometimes only to look and sit and stand and walk around and listen.  I have come to understand the power of waiting, of being acted upon...of surrender.

one of my freshly-turned seven year olds just informed me this afternoon that 7 is almost 8.  to which my mind answered, "and 8 is almost 18...and 28...and so it goes."  mortality.

I raised a glass to Dad last night, who would have been 73 yesterday.  he knew me as many things, but he never knew me as a father, and I suppose that makes me feel feelings I generally keep to myself.  Too long gone, and every year I understand better how very young I was to have lost him.  and then I see that what I say to my daughters is true; that I will always be with them.

my period of depression and doubt seems to be subsiding.  work comes from working, not thinking about it or indulging the ego's whims of fancy and insecurity.  painters paint; end of slump.  we pick up and endure and push beyond.  this odd and wonderful humanity.

and so it goes.