I am waking up earlier. I am more anxious than ever. I am getting closer to finding an accommodating approach, but I am not there yet. I am not making works which allow me to feel comfortable. Perhaps this will go on forever, but I feel my anxiety is great, right now, because I am in a mode of testing directions. I do not know what suit to put on. I am not lost, but I am not found. When I do one thing well there is another thing I do not so well. My skills can be high one day and questionable the next. I want to be someplace. I know I have the ability to get there, but I am not there. I also feel I am on the verge of excellence. Being on the verge is the root of anxiety. Yesterday tells this story as well as any day. My warm-up drawing exhibits characteristic confusion.
Then there is the painting. "Woman with Flowers" is so wet with oil as to be nearly unmanageable in construction of the details I wish to explore. I was able to relate forms better than in the version shown in the previous post, but new awkward forms appeared. I am not sure I like the version I show today better than the one shown yesterday. And so it goes. I am in the midst of a revolution, and I am both the preserver of tradition and the agent of change.
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