Additionally, there's the stop and go that takes place in my studio.
Knowing when to stop can be hard.
Picking up a brush to keep going when going feels impossible is hard, but knowing when not to pick up a brush and go again is often the hardest.
Today I enjoyed a softness as I painted. In the middle of a very busy day, painting was a welcome harbor of timelessness. Brush strokes felt loose and easy. I lost myself happily in the gentle adventure. At a certain point I blinked awake, so to speak, and said out loud to myself, stop.
I put my brushes down, closed up my stay-wet palette, stepped back to look at my canvas one more time from a distance …
… and picked up a brush again.
As I went to add a touch of increased brightness, I literally said aloud, This could wreck everything. But, happily, after a few quick satisfying flourishes I stopped. Again.
This time I got as far as photographing the painting and uploading it to my computer before I decided to add just one more little touch.
Then I really did stop.
|Crossroads Pond, Jonesport|
6x6", acrylic on canvas board