Paint Wrangling

July 01, 2015  •  Leave a Comment

Last week I started a new painting. I finally set aside the other canvas I’d had on the easel for about three months and turned to something new. It felt like I was overcoming some major life hurdle, but really I just moved the current, pretty-much done picture out of the way and dug toward the back of the closet for a new canvas (actually kind of a hurdle if you ask me - it’s a mess back there).

However, this ‘new canvas’ had a history. I started a painting on it early in the year and later abandoned it due to the fact that it sucked (technical term). Sadly, it was hard to let go of this monstrosity, mostly because I am stubborn. But it had gone beyond the point of no return and after its long banishment to the closet I realized this fully. But now I decided to raise it up, like Lazarus, to a new and glorious life as the most beautiful painting ever to be conjured by human hands (my goal at the start, anyway).

I started out early in the week by just sketching out the new scene. I thought I would take my time doing this in order to get psyched about filling in my marvelous sketch over the weekend when I had plenty of time. For a few days it looked like this mess. River Landscape, Stage I.River Landscape, Stage I.The messy start to a new painting.

On Friday it morphed into this post-apocalypse-meets-the-grass-is-always-greener-landscape as I tried to immediately work up a strong contrast between the foreground and background.  River Landscape, Stage II. River Landscape, Stage II. After the nuclear explosion in front, neon green party in back.

With a long Saturday of gluing my feet to the studio floor and trying to resist the urge to play on social media all day I arrived here. River Landscape, Stage III.River Landscape, Stage III.Not too shabby. I did not think things would come around very well, being convinced of some evil cursed laid on me by the spurned painting underneath, but it’s not that bad. Yes, it’s a rare painting that doesn’t feel like wrestling badgers, and now historians will have something ugly to discover under this layer of kind-of-niceness three hundred years from now.


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