Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Mentor, OH

Rick and his mom have gone out to visit a garden. I sneak out the back with my paints and a chair, and notice again the pattern of sun on the meadow next door. This time I include a different tree at the edge of the woods.
The colors feel more natural today. I wonder if painting is like writing. You write every day, whether it feels difficult or effortless. On the difficult days you find, on later reading, that the writing is just as good as on the effortless days. The experience of the writer doesn’t translate into quality. (However you might debate this point, it’s been my experience, and that of many professionals.)
Is this true of painting? I imagine it depends on whether the difficulty of the process changes your behavior. Do you hurry through the painting on a difficult day? Do you go with your first choice of color, instead of second-guessing your choice? Do you put down shapes too simplistically?
Today is an automatic painting day, and I enjoy it, never mind the results.

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