The beginning of the end of one painting.
How come you can't know it all at once? It seems to me that painting is a lot like writing a novel ― you can't know the outcome when you begin; upon initial inspiration you merely have a fundamental feeling for the characters. And so it goes.... Today I will alter this painting, now in its 17th state, once again. I feel like I know the nature of the situation better than yesterday, which was better than the day before. The unravel of knowing is occurring slowly, moving, as it is, from cryptic to authentic. When this painting is true to itself it will be finished.
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