Most artist feel like a piece is never really finished. Even the most famous of artist were notorious for painting pieces as the patrons were carrying them out the door. To bad I'm not being pursued by any patrons, things may actually reach an end. The longer something hangs on the wall in my studio, the more it changes. What a glorious life. Maybe it's a metaphor for my relationships. Bow out and later I appear changed or maybe you reappear a different person? A phoenix? I deviate.
Last night I decided to stick my hand back into a couple of dormant pieces. The outcome: This one is very near to my heart. It's hard to become content, again, a metaphor. I see it everyday and I feel differently about it every time. I can't reach peace with it. I'm sure I'll just keep adding until it's so overdone that I have to tow it out with a wrecker. We shall see. Remember what it looked like about a month ago? This one has been back burner. It's nestled up in a corner and I had been busy with the craft bazaar. Last night I decided it could use some love. See it as a child here.
I've been so frazzled and intimated about compiling my graduate. I photographed my work and as I was editing it, I questioned myself. Is my work well done enough to be accepted into a graduate school? Does this stuff look like undergrad work? I'm feeling a bit low. I wish the work would just photograph itself. Or, maybe I will just truck it across the country for a live portfolio? Ugh, much to much! I could use some encouragement or dark chocolate right about now.