Pull up a chair kind reader! I improved upon the painting that heads this blog. That dates it as well, at least somewhat. I love this chair. I want it for my home. But at least it resides here on Outside Inside House. I painted the sides different as well- with nice furniture and lamps. Still haven't put the glass in- but I shall! Goodness I do like sanding. The most fabulous surfaces, the most remarkable abstract art are these walls in foreign countries- peeling and painted and sanded and chipping and painted again. So lovely.
Its quite possible that my work as an artist has saved me the silent discomfort of preferring or loving one of my sons more than the other. Sometimes when I finish a painting I feel so very fond of it. In fact I feel this way with most of my new born images. But over a few months, or sadly, even a few days, the joy of creating that new picture usually fades to a happy familiarity or possibly a disgruntled disappointment (Do you feel this way when you create? I know many artists who never like their finished art). For myriad reasons a few painting never loose their charm to me- I remain in awe that the emerged from my fingers. In fact these works make me feel more of a portal as though 'I' wasn't part of the equation or even the catalyst- the art came from elsewhere, from the Jungian waters of the group subconsciousness or some force, but definitely not me.
But my sons, though a gift, never end up on the shelf of the familiar and forgotten, nor on the pedestal of my best creations, and so are never one more loved than the other. They will always be my best creations but there is no way I can critique a creation that belongs so entirely to itself.
