This was a holiday weekend, three days off, snuggled into the house warmed against the drear, cold grey & white world out beyond the four walls.
When I stepped into my work area, I didn't follow my usual pattern -- lighting some incense, turning on a classical CD, trying to work my way into a painting, sort of side-winding into the process, tricking the timid mind into thinking it is going to "just play" for awhile.
Nope! This time I slapped some Brazilian jazz into the boom box, grabbed my brushes taped to long sticks (a fun tip from Bob Burridge to loosen up), filled some pots with water and broke out the colors!
This time of year I crave color. I guess we all do -- unless of course one lives in Australia or Hawaii or Rio. With predictions of more snow on the way, this was a time for bold moves -- or else . . .
Working on large canvases -- some of which had half-baked paintings already on them but were dying of boredom -- I scrubbed and slopped and wiped layers and layers of colors, as I rocked and swayed to "Girl from Ipanema" and other sambas.
If I didn't like what I saw in front of me, I wiped and re-dressed the canvas with gesso. I also ate two boxes of gummy bears and swedish fish -- maybe that had something to do with my elevated levels of energy??? Hmmm.....!
So, after about 6 hours (with short dancing breaks and refills of decaf coffee -- after the candy, who needed full-strength?), I ended the day with the painting above. Quieter but definitely RED. It was a painting I had done about 4 years ago, then shelved and forgot about. And the reason was: it truly was not finished. It was half-baked.
I saturated the canvas with colors -- carmine and crimson, vermilion and violet -- with just that dash of bodacious orange on the rim. It had begun as a river painting years ago, trying to capture that moment when the sun has set, the skies are deepening toward twilight but there is still that hush of deep, deep red coloring everything -- the river, the banks of trees and rocks, the sky.
And one knows that one is riding the rim of twilight, resting on the cusp before dipping into night.
The music is quiet now. The gummy bears and swedish fish are at rest, as am I.
My work is done.
Time to light the fire and dream of warm breezes and summer gardens . . .