I’ve been staring at this painting (only half of it is pictured here) for many months now. Maybe a year or more. It has gone through a lot of transitions, and every one has left me feeling dissatisfied. That is just fine. It just means we aren’t at the end yet.

The calculating… the projecting and judging part of my brain has to step aside and let the more playful side… play.

Like everything else in life, every brushstroke I make is subject to change. It doesn’t really change unless I catch it while it’s still wet. It gets painted over. Embedded in layers of paint, it is more secure than ever, even if no one sees the colors.

A friend once asked me what the scratching is about. I scratch into the paint with the back end of the paintbrush.

If I put a fresh color over a color that is incorporated into the colors around it, that new color looks like it’s been painted on top, or on the surface, which it has. Scratching through it anchors it visually to the paint that is under and around it.

This painting is a neighborhood, and I’d like for the neighbors to get along. I see a white house. I see a blue house with an attached garage. I see the sushi chef and church choir. I doubt you will see what I see. If you look, you may see things I missed.

It’s not done anyway. It sits on my easel and watches me make pots. It’s in no hurry.

That’s kind of nice.