I know there are many arguments, many valid arguments, for not giving up on things, for seeing things through to the end. I know this. I also know, however, that sometimes giving up is necessary, liberating, wonderful. I started two new paintings today, although, if I am honest with myself (and I try to be), the paintings I took down and called 'done' could have been better if I pushed them, pushed myself, a little longer. But I caught myself recently, in the realization that in a lot of my studio work I was pushing myself "because this might sell" instead of "because this brings me joy", and I strongly believe the latter must be the stronger drive if the art is going to mean anything, is going to be truly worth the paint it's made of. And so today I started new paintings, in the search of what brings me joy, and which, I hope, will also bring it to others.
This is one of the "done" pieces, that is, one with which I am finished, even if it could have been better. (I hesitated to post it, lest someone be turned off of it by the above knowledge, but I don't care to be a dishonest artist, and I've found that people love works of art regardless of the stories surrounding them, so here it is, a less-than-perfect masterpiece):
And here is a new Sebbie, as yet the vaguest of under-paintings:
And here is the piece I am most excited about, so much so I hope the excitement will carry me out of my rut. It is also as of yet an under-painting, but even so it makes me grin a bit mischievously.
Here's to new beginnings :)
