The last few weeks, while I’ve been waiting for the canvas I ordered to come in, I’ve been reworking paintings, some old (five years), some not so old (recent). It’s been an interesting, even educational experience. I have wanted to make them be the same as the ones I’ve started recently. Sometimes I’ve come close, even made them say things I hadn’t realized they needed when I first did them. That’s been good. But it has been getting tedious, waiting to start something fresh.
I usually work and rework paintings until I am satisfied I can do nothing more. Often it is rewarding, eventually. But I’ve come not to like a heavy buildup of paint. Sunday I did something I haven’t done in several years: I took some paintings off their stretchers. It was sad, seeing them lying on the floor, their stretchers empty so I retired them to the waste bin. I quickly found two small pieces of canvas large enough to fit the 30″ x 30″ stretchers and got to work on them. Somehow my enthusiasm must have been a bit much because ultimately I sprained my wrist in the process. And who said painting is not work!