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Unexpected pleasures

I’ve been restless lately, itching to start some new work but low on necessary supplies. I ordered a roll of canvas from the supply store at the Art College but it hasn’t come in yet. I ordered some more paint from Aboveground Art Supplies in Toronto but it hasn’t arrived yet. I have enough paint to do some work, but not all the right colors I want. Aboveground didn’t have ultramarine violet in the large size, only the smaller size, which I would use up in a few small minutes. So I will have to order them from the manufacturer, R&F Paints.

Yet this morning, I cleared the frustrations away and put in several very productive hours working on reworking work.  To my surprise, it was exhilarating.  Paintings that I had thought I had (maybe even several times) finished, blossomed with what seems to be constantly growing insight into what can make a painting work.  And work better.

I suppose it isn’t really work in the traditional sense.  It’s just so intuitive, so immediate, spontaneous.  Maybe even thoughtfully spontaneous.

So when is a painting finished?  When it feels right, completely right.

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