As always, the painting never looks like the image I carry in my head.
As always it has a mind of its own.
This worries me. This image on my canvas is alien to me.
I don’t know where it came from. But, I am committed to follow.
I must own it.
I must own the happy faces that are not as dramatic as I planned.
I must own the quilted background that is too overwhelming.
There is so much I want to add to the painting, but already it is busy busy busy.
I am not surprised. Busy has become my signature.
I have no control.
I must own busy busy busy.
It is a perfect representation of what is in my head.
Too many ideas. Expectations. Dreams.
All fighting to be heard and hoping for a spot on the canvas.
I pine for simplicity. I envy the uncomplicated.
But that is not me.