Painting is a daily heart and soul regulator. I’m habituated to it, like shaving, though the latter I have to do so the mouth tape will stick on at night.
A painting of just color and shapes usually is more useful to me than the best rendered cityscape. One is free, loose and innocently stupid, like the human animal, and the other is the pain and effort of copy through bricklaying, and for a result that appears almost super human. I like the instant, messy, un-thought out results. I usually add the title midway through. I don’t think Buddha had a hellhound. Maybe back at the palace, but not under the tree.
I walk to the lakeshore on summer evenings, but no swimming this year.
If I make it to 20,000, I’ll satisfy the rest of my life with pizza and television:)
Thank you!