The Italian dinner painting bears no resemblance to the bountiful spread we devoured. Instead, it is an "Homage to Peter Max". That is what happens when the right brain takes over.
I have been working several days on a deep, 24"x30" painting of Boulder's flat irons, a lovely geographical uprising along the Rockie's front range. I photographed, I measured, I sketched. I laid out the colors I planned to use. Not to be! The more paint, time and planning invested the more I desperately didn't like it. Finally I realized I really, really, hated that painting. So I took all my supply of left-over mixtures from previous paintings (I never throw away paint, $$$) and decided to see if I could change it from realism to abstract. All my frustration went onto that revision. The result was that I not only wasted leftover paint, I shocked my husband and his caregiver. Looking at it when they thought I couldn't hear, they whispered their suspicion that I had "lost it". It will be gessoed after all.
Last year I did a 6'x6" impressionistic flat irons, "Pink Time", that I liked.
My lesson is this: "Hello, right brain, you are now in charge of art. Left brain, you work the computer and repair husband's wheelchair."
"Sang-Froid"
"Sang-Froid"
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