Saved
Something stops me.
Then I have to deal with it.
The women I paint are professionals at being looked at. Most of them make a living from their own image, and they are very good at it.
Every so often one of them stops me mid-scroll. I never know why in the moment, so I save the picture and leave it alone. Months later it is still there, still asking for something, and the only way I know to answer it is to paint it.
For twenty-five years I made images for other people. 3D, advertising, software. I know what goes into a picture before it reaches you, which is probably why the few that get past me get so far past me.
No sketch, no plan, no deadline. Days at a time over several weeks, and then it stops. Not because the painting is finished, but because I am.
Whether the canvas is done is a separate question and I have never been able to answer it. So I hang it up and pass the question on.
