This painting proved to myself that I can boss acrylic ink around. I’m quite relieved. A strange thing happens as I finish a painting. I get sad for a moment. The initial stages of any new painting are a bit of a war. I make underpaintings for each little section and then I battle to get the areas to where I want them. It’s a mental struggle. For me, drawing or painting is exhausting. It’s not really relaxing by any means. At a certain stage of the painting process, things take shape and begin to come together. The fun part is adding all those last little highlights and flourishes that bring the scene to life. I can actually see when I have about 20 paint strokes left. There is a little countdown that happens in my head. 5, 4, 3, 2, and then I place that last little drip of paint and I know it’s complete. My first feeling is always sadness. A kind of deep inner sadness. I think the reason for this is that I sort of hate the battle of wrestling with the paint but I love as it eventually comes into view. It’s like doing a jigsaw puzzle and finally placing in the last pieces. Yes, it’s finished but now you have to break it up and put it back in the box. Same goes for my painting. I stick it in a box. Then I really dread staring at another blank piece of watercolor paper and heading into battle again. Ugh.
