I did this piece a day ago. I painted the background, and let it sit for an hour I came back in and added clouds and the little open gateway.
I sat and stared, as "Tempest" played, a Bob Dylan cd. I just sat and melted into the painting.
Did it need more? I sat some more.
I left it alone. But I felt akin to it, I felt complete satisfaction. Sometimes you feel satisfied with a piece, and it is for reasons that don't lead to the most optimal work you have left inside of you. Sometimes, in rare, intense moments, you feel satisfied with a piece on a much more spiritual level-and sometimes those pieces get sold, or they stay with you for reasons you aren't sure of. I always feel my work is in the process of making the art, I'm the conduit and all that, and then I let it go after birthing it. "Don't get attached to the final result", I always say, or you get stuck, or you start relying on a tried and true formula in a piece over and over.
It seems the pieces are wanting to be sparser of late, even quieter than before, more muted.
I came back to the piece and sat with it. I felt it was telling me something, something I might already know unconsciously....that is usually the way–the inside knows much sooner than the outside.
This is a deeply personal piece, personal in a way I haven't fully comprehended yet. Maybe I don't have to. Maybe I do. It's the mystery of painting and art. But also, I think it is the special place I am in right now-not only the physical location, but the time of my life-sixty is a month away-and also the times our world is in. I've been sharing publicly-so much-since my blog started in 2006, and maybe this is responding to that.
I shall wait. For now, it is like this painting is my soul living on the outside of my physical body, and I'm grateful it came around. I will listen to her.
