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| Hanging in Wait. 2009 Acrylic on wood 48" X 60" |
It is the only time I get to myself, and I take it, relish it, like good juice.
I am the little boy in the Welch's commercial, rolling it around on my tongue.
I spent the morning squatted in my jammies besides the art cupboard.
Two bags of oils have been gifted to me, and I've been avoiding them.
Because oil paints are serious. Acrylics are flighty and will dry in 5 minutes. They are an easy one-night-stand. Expecting nothing they will lie down anywhere, and be painted over if you like.
But not oils. They take a week to dry. They are delicate. They require integrity, because if I am too indecisive with them, they turn to brown.
It is worth the agony though, because when I get it right...they shine.
I have sketched the painting I intend to paint at least 10 times. Now I'm just stalling. I am afraid of "right." I am afraid of ambition. I know I need it, but I know it doesn't always turn out either. The process is so beautiful and will not be tamed. I respect it. As with anything I respect, I am a bit timid to approach.
Everything is in order. Now I just have to dive in. Nose plugged. Okay.
Have you ever been too methodical...too ambitious? that's what my anorexia looked/looks like to me. every move i make is purposeful, and it has to be exactly "right." only then did/do i plunge into the purging and the careless "acrylic"-like self. How do you live between the two? Is it possible?
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