Christmas morning

Christmas morning. My daughter, Jane, is home from college, and we’re waiting for her and our two high school-age sons to wake up. This is the first Christmas that the children didn’t get us up at the crack of dawn.

I’m taking advantage of the quiet before the storm to get some studio time. It’s funny how the truth of a painting reveals itself. Sometimes it’s immediate but other times it comes slowly; it takes its own good time. It’s not something I’m directly in charge of.

It’s frustrating when you are all charged up and ready to start painting but the truth–or theme, if you prefer–eludes you. Often, I plunge in any way. Through experience, though, I’ve learned to listen to the painting’s heart and if it isn’t singing, to set the painting aside. Working on a lot of paintings simultaneously, as I do, helps in these cases. There’s always something to do somewhere among the unfinished paintings.

You might think I’m making the case for some sort of dreamy, poetic approach–waiting for inspiration. Not at all. The best way to commune with the muse is DISCIPLINE. I discipline myself to only work on things that matter to me. When I do, the muse speaks most loudly.

You might wonder how is it that working on things that matter takes discipline? My interests distract me. I’m always fiddling with materials, recipes, formats, colors–you name it. These things are important and have their place, of course, but they don’t supply the engine. And do we know ourselves?  Is it easy to know what’s important?

MY studio session this morning was great. The muse was talking and things were clear. I discovered the key to several paintings.