the companion of a painting
|clear eyes, full heart, 30x40, acrylic on canvas, SOLD|
It's strange to type this here even though it feels so real for me. Call me crazy (really, I don't mind), but, to me, my paintings are living and breathing. I think that's when I know I am finished with a piece: it feels as though it's come alive.
My paintings are definitely companions, without a doubt.
Sometimes I am as protective of them as a child with her stuffed toys, making sure they are all comfortably placed, and upright. I do think I always did believe my toys came to life on off hours (enter Corduroy, the children's book by Don Freeman).
I am particularly attached to the pieces that mark some sort of breakthrough or crossroads for me.
I have this certain kind of attachment to the longhorn (above).
And this bison:
|gentle giant,, 48x36, 3995.|
I have felt the support, encouragement and companionship of the longhorn as I have started to paint these larger rabbits.
|standing tall is safe here, 48x30, 2450.|
|off duty, 48x30, and ALMOST FINISHED!|
And with the completion of Gentle Giant, I felt I had her permission to continue to paint more:
|the skeptic, 24x20, acrylic on canvas, SOLD|
|to lay me down, 30x40, acrylic on canvas, 2995.|
"Many people attempt to access in advance the long term meaning and value of a result they might create. When they think about it, they hesitate. They are afraid they will waste their time and energy on something that won't be worthwhile in the end...
I suggest that they create it. Once they have created the result, they will no longer have to speculate on the creation's value. They can live with it and know for sure. When in doubt, create!"