tuesday morning. and cold outside warm inside

Yesterday I had a great day in the studio. After six hours of  pure agony, the painting finally revealed itself to me and it was a joy to finish. Getting through the goo to you. 

Being a painter is like being in kindergarden all the time.  I never get to be a grown up that knows what is going to happen next. It is a mystery to  me. You would think it would get easier after doing this all day every day for years and years now. You would think. But each new painting is just as hard as the first because it has to be better than the last one. Constantly upping the anti. It never stops. That is why it is never not scary. When I finish one I always think" I cannot come up with something different" Not only am I painting the same subject for years , I am also coming at it from the same place. It is hard. 

I love it.