A slow and steady re-entry. I did make it back into the studio yesterday. I opened the door and set down the yolk. It was still sitting there on the floor, big and ornery, but I walked around it. “Now, yes, now my only focus is paint; smooth, supple, and inherently under my control” I thought, anxious for the command of it all.
I should have locked the door and blackened the windows. My parked car signaled a return and pieces of unfinished business came through one by one. I addressed them as they arose, not making it to the palette until 3PM. “I only have an hour and a half left, start anyway, and don’t rush it” I thought. I scrapped the dried concoctions left from another day, loaded fresh piles and slowly spilled them together, gentle and unhurried. As I mixed, methodically comparing, there was no speed, no outpouring of emotion as anticipated. Just a slow, calm, deep desire to recollect and reconnect. I fell back to Italy and quietly let my brain recapture the pearls, shiny or dull, any of them would do.
Today held the same schedule, dotted and detained by unpleasant yet important details that demand attention. By 2PM I was in the paint. “Mix the color, lay it down” I told myself. I listened. No great release or breakthrough, just a consistent hiss of information, a slow steady hum…a beautiful hum.
If tomorrow’s demands don’t involve paint they will be shut out. I hope to share her with you by the end of the day.