That's what I'm calling this painting. And yes, I am aware I do this "blogging" thing out of order. I hope you like to check in, anyway. You will like the next sets of trip photos, as they involve interesting things.
I first painted this canvas about five years ago. It could even have been six. Definitely more than four. And I never used black paint again, until yesterday. It had been going along well, then turned all mooshy and flat on me, and I set it aside. (Unfortunately, this photo makes it look even flatter than it is; it actually did have some depth and texture going for it.)
But when we were in Princeton, we checked out an abstract and expressionist art exhibit, and I was reminded of it. The Person With Art Degree had a look and told me it needed definition in the flat black, and he's been also encouraging me to be more bold with the textures I like to add in. So yesterday I bought a little tube of heavy body Mars Black, got out my modeling stuff and the high gloss varnish, and went for it. (My philosophy, if I can be said to have one, is that another touch of vermillion never did any harm.)
And then there was a conversation this morning as he wandered by:
Me: ::holding up thing:: Look! It's better now, right?
Him: Yes, you have the shiny and flat surfaces now, the contrast it needed.
Me: Well, I think maybe it's actually good. I mean, I quite like it.
Him: Then it is. That's the only thing that matters.
Me: Well, no, I don't know that. What if I wanted to show a group of them because I thought so, but actually, people would be like, are you kidding me with this?
Him: You're ridiculous.
Me: No, you've just always been a real artist and you don't understand.
Him: It's like Christopher Columbus, when told the world was flat.
Me: What? No. They thought the world was much smaller, not flat.
Him: Still, he knew he was right.
Me: Are you comparing me to him? Because first of all, not proving it wasn't flat, and second, he was just a truly terrible person. He did horrible things. I don't know how that relates to my paintings at all.
Him: If you like them, they're good. ::Exit::
So, you know, I could be wholly delusional, but that's fine. My delusions are all that matter. I hang them only on my own walls, after all, like a child's drawings on a refrigerator: no harm done to others.