An abstract made on a beautiful blue afternoon. Not 100% happy with the patterns and balance of the scratch-marks, but there is promise in the rest. I will keep on chugging away at this one for as long as the canvas can take it.
The slow and hesitant switch from planned and controlled to a more intuitive form of painting has been a wild and mind opening ride for me. Working on a painting in an intuitive manner takes a deep form of trust. Trust that the image is already there, waiting to be teased out; trust that my own view of what looks and feels “right” is enough and valid. It takes trust and one operates on hope, from one painting to the next.
Emily Dickinson also knew a thing or two about hope:
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –That perches in the soul –And sings the tune without the words –And never stops – at all –And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –And sore must be the storm –That could abash the little BirdThat kept so many warm –I’ve heard it in the chillest land –And on the strangest Sea –Yet – never – in Extremity,It asked a crumb – of me.this copy from Poetry Foundation