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When I say pushing "the" limits I mean specifically, my own. Please excuse this blog if it seems incomprehensible. It's 2:44 in the morning and I just finished painting number six. I think that after I factor out breaks for tea and dinner as well as a five-mile run, I ended up painting about 13 hours today.
But before I go into that, I definitely owe an apology to you, dear 27 followers. Yesterday I did not blog out of what I will refer to as beer sloth. Need I explain more? I painted for about 7 hours yesterday and then decided that it would be relaxing to start going through my newly acquired National Geographic collection while I drank Newcastle with Tom, cutting out pictures that either had an interesting pattern, strange-looking people, or depicted massive destruction.
That's how it started at least. After about 20 minutes of doing just that I was completely absorbed in an article from 1977 about this outrageously sentimental French man who locks himself in a bat and mice infested cave, hooked up to electrodes while his colleagues 100 feet above on the surface measured his "cycles". It was basically a study to see if humans could adapt to a 48 sleep cycle if they were in isolation (i.e. in space).
The guy lost his mind. He starts off very pretentious and nearly ecstatic at the prospect of being isolated for months (no doubt, planning to bask in his Frenchness).
Then his record player breaks. Eventually, he starts hearing the stirrings of mice and goes on a killing rampage. He starts to resent the telephone in a way that seems to personify it, making one wonder what it did to deserve so much hate. When,
towards the end of his stay, he discovers that one small mouse still lives in the corner of his cave, he nearly cries for joy at the thought of a "companion" and begins to try and create a humane trap using a beebe gun and a casserole dish. After days of stalking the critter, he ends up catching the mouse under the casserole dish only to find that he has crushed the poor creature to death, spurring him to thoughts of suicide. He doesn't do it, but sticks it out, emerging from the cave "mentally disturbed in ways that (he) cannot understand".
Anyway, you see the problem? How can you write an interesting blog about some boring painting you just started, after reading a brilliant piece of literature like that. You can't. It's an impossible act to follow. So instead of writing, I went to bed.
Next, I'd like to address my last painting. Until further notice, I have changed the name from "Jellyfish One" to "Spongebob Squarepants One (and only)".
Yes, I hate it that much. I appreciate the comment left on here about the problems with it. I totally agree one hundred percent. It is, in a word, cartoony. I'm waiting for it to dry, at which point I will cover the entire painting with a thick black glaze that is semi transparent. I will then get a rag with turpentine and pick out the highlights. This should tone down the Disney appeal of the little fucker and maybe make it seem like a real sea creature. I haven't decided to abort the painting yet entirely, but I'm seriously considering adoption. Mom, clear a wall. This one just might not make it into the 100 awesome paintings. Yes, it's setting me back a couple days, but allowing me to maintain a modicum of integrity.
Now, I would like to post my new painting, which I love. Drum roll, please. Jellyfish Number Two.
There she is. Please note that there is glare on the painting, it is totally wet and on top of that, it is the middle of the night, and the photo sucks. I am so much happier with this one that it almost absolves the tragedy of the last.
Tomorrow, I will start another painting and try to finish it. I'd like to have 7 paintings done by the end of the month at the very least.
But before I go into that, I definitely owe an apology to you, dear 27 followers. Yesterday I did not blog out of what I will refer to as beer sloth. Need I explain more? I painted for about 7 hours yesterday and then decided that it would be relaxing to start going through my newly acquired National Geographic collection while I drank Newcastle with Tom, cutting out pictures that either had an interesting pattern, strange-looking people, or depicted massive destruction.
That's how it started at least. After about 20 minutes of doing just that I was completely absorbed in an article from 1977 about this outrageously sentimental French man who locks himself in a bat and mice infested cave, hooked up to electrodes while his colleagues 100 feet above on the surface measured his "cycles". It was basically a study to see if humans could adapt to a 48 sleep cycle if they were in isolation (i.e. in space).
The guy lost his mind. He starts off very pretentious and nearly ecstatic at the prospect of being isolated for months (no doubt, planning to bask in his Frenchness).
Then his record player breaks. Eventually, he starts hearing the stirrings of mice and goes on a killing rampage. He starts to resent the telephone in a way that seems to personify it, making one wonder what it did to deserve so much hate. When,
towards the end of his stay, he discovers that one small mouse still lives in the corner of his cave, he nearly cries for joy at the thought of a "companion" and begins to try and create a humane trap using a beebe gun and a casserole dish. After days of stalking the critter, he ends up catching the mouse under the casserole dish only to find that he has crushed the poor creature to death, spurring him to thoughts of suicide. He doesn't do it, but sticks it out, emerging from the cave "mentally disturbed in ways that (he) cannot understand". Anyway, you see the problem? How can you write an interesting blog about some boring painting you just started, after reading a brilliant piece of literature like that. You can't. It's an impossible act to follow. So instead of writing, I went to bed.
Next, I'd like to address my last painting. Until further notice, I have changed the name from "Jellyfish One" to "Spongebob Squarepants One (and only)".
Yes, I hate it that much. I appreciate the comment left on here about the problems with it. I totally agree one hundred percent. It is, in a word, cartoony. I'm waiting for it to dry, at which point I will cover the entire painting with a thick black glaze that is semi transparent. I will then get a rag with turpentine and pick out the highlights. This should tone down the Disney appeal of the little fucker and maybe make it seem like a real sea creature. I haven't decided to abort the painting yet entirely, but I'm seriously considering adoption. Mom, clear a wall. This one just might not make it into the 100 awesome paintings. Yes, it's setting me back a couple days, but allowing me to maintain a modicum of integrity.
Now, I would like to post my new painting, which I love. Drum roll, please. Jellyfish Number Two.
There she is. Please note that there is glare on the painting, it is totally wet and on top of that, it is the middle of the night, and the photo sucks. I am so much happier with this one that it almost absolves the tragedy of the last.
Tomorrow, I will start another painting and try to finish it. I'd like to have 7 paintings done by the end of the month at the very least.
