The painting "How's It Gonna End?" (2019 No.2) begins as usual for these recent times. I have a feeling. I don't know where it's going. How is it going to end? Thank you to Tom Waits for helping me verbalize my consistently mysterious process. I relish this path. I accept the step by step as exciting, a murder mystery unraveling. I killing the white canvas, replacing it with marks, paint and color. "A tree born crooked will never grow straight. She sunk like a hammer into the lake. A long lost letter and an old leaky boat. Promises are never meant to keep. And I want to know, the same thing everyone wants to know, How's it going to end?"
How's It Gonna End?
Difficulties are exactly what they seem. These queries into possibilities are struggles to be free. Knots cannot always be untied, but they can be dealt with, like catching a fish. Not always easy to do, but doable. Freedom for me is working with mindfulness. That is, the path is unknown, but clear. The next step appears as the last one has been taken. This drawing was made in this manner. Does that make it a great drawing? Not necessarily so! It is, however, a reward. I am gratified no matter the quality as judged by you or me.
The work creeps along, like a snail's path to food. That's how it seems to me. Life gets in the way, the intrinsic velocity of ideas get in the way. The registration on the speedometer of insight is regulated by forces out of my control. Too often I feel I am traveling as fast as I can go at an unacceptably slow pace. Still, I leave some useful tracks along the way. Yesterday's drawing was one of them.
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