I sometimes can’t work on a piece. I stop in a moment and walk away. There is a moment of terror. Will I go too far and not be able to come back. There is also a moment of recognition. The painting. The muse. The energy. The whatever you want to call it has asked me to step back. Yes in this moment it all feels good. But tomorrow you may wake up and feel differently about that last mark on the surface. So, I stop. I pause. I breathe. I walk away. A few days of staring at it and nothing. What are you trying to tell me? Grrr…I am so mad at you! You came on so strong and now…silence. Ok ok ok. I can wait. I will work on processing files on my computer for print. I will block out 300 social media posts. I will I will…fuck migraine. 2 days of pain and now I feel like I am blind. Blindness isn’t so bad when it’s temporary. But I am having a hard time seeing contrast right now. The pain has fallen off and nursing slowing down. I think I can I think I can I think I can.
I can. So I step over to the piece. There is a gentle whisper. Turn the paper. I pull the tape from the wall and move the piece next to this one, so now I can turn this one horizontal. Oh. Ok. Well yes. Alrighty then. I began to block out some more of the color and light placements. I went back in and started with a bright melon color. Grr my eyes are hurting still. It’s the migraine sitting back there. Stop fucking mocking me! I am just going to work for a bit more. 2 hours later. Officially unable to see much more I turn off all the staged lighting. I take a photograph with my phone and send it to my computer. Gracias bluetooth. I open it up in Photoshop and remove the bottom leg. I’m pretty sure that is what it was begging for. “I think we are actually in full dialogue here,” I turned to the painting and said. A nod. Ok- I grab a rag and then remove the paint of the leg from the surface. We both exhaled.