Wed Sept 19
Got up at 6 this morning, after rolling around in bed for half an hour or so.Â I woke up in a kind of panic over my large, and seemingly impossible, project. My brain kept swirling about the problems of painting on the cedar (which really needs a lot of experimentation and then quantities of sanding and prep before it will be ready for pigment). Furthermore, the difficulty of getting it up the hill, of getting my art materials up to it, of having enough art materials, including a clear gel medium laid down, and then waiting for that medium to to dry before I painted on it, trying to stow my stuff in the mouse-ridden airstream, and working long hard hours for 7 days in a row â€“ well, it all seemed too hard.
Sometimes. if I work on a painting after a night of panic, it dissipates the tension and clears the way for reasonable decisions.
This north pond is what I see best from my big playa-oriented windows and from my table in the kitchen. It requires being painted, if only as a memento. So, at 6:30 I was out on the deck, laying in the shapes of the mountain and pond on a big (30 x 40â€ť) canvas.
After I laid in the shapes on the very dark canvas (what was I thinking when I prepared this canvas with black acrylic?), I started painting. Frost covered the gold and rust grasses on the side of the pond, and it seemed to be a very still (very early) morning. What I forgot is that frost generally signifies a certain amount of cold. Or perhaps a lot of cold. Even more cold on a shaded deck, around the corner from the warm sun, where there was a bit of breeze. Dealing with my self-inflicted dilemma of the panorama and my intense concentration on the painting made me forget to feel how cold my fingers were getting. Continue reading