Making art surprises me. It is like living a day in one's life. The schedule may be firm. The ideas required to get through the day may be known. Yet in every event, every drawing, every painting, the surprise of its demands is the stuff which makes life worth living. It gives back wonder. It tells you who you are because you watch yourself react. It is in the reactions, the actions, that one is revealed. The title of the new painting, "Unexpected," is, indeed, pertinent. I am discovering the forms and the occupants of "Unexpected" as I paint it. Witness the difference between the head of the woman in today's image versus yesterday's. I did not expect this. I like it. I like its surprise. The trajectory of mood I witnessed yesterday was dramatic. I entered the studio expecting to make another drawing, similar to the most recent ones, where I compose, and find the forms and the figures, simultaneously. Those earlier drawings were relatively instinctual compared to yesterday's. Yesterday's drawing was a struggle from the get-go. I blame it on the indecipherable mood in which I entered the studio. There is a lot going on in living, and one never knows the exact effect it has on one's demeanor and mood. The effects are complex, not well verbalized; thus I make art. Art speaks clearly. On this day, yesterday, I began working more analytically, less spontaneously, than in the past few days. I was more timid, somewhat adverse to risk. Yesterday's drawing shows this. By the end of yesterday's studio time I had, somewhat, wrestled myself back to clarity of purpose. The fairly aggressive alteration to the painting "Unexpected" is a record of this scuffle with my emotions.
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