Birth of a Painting
With sickness dragging on and declining to visit a doctor, it was time to paint.
Of course I was now over 2 weeks behind everything in my computer work, with clients clamouring the way clients do.
And my headaches wouldn’t respond to any tablets and left me unable to look at a computer screen for more than a few seconds every half hour or so.
Meanwhile the 5 unfinished canvases for the gallery were all still untouched since being chosen by the gallery, with the date for completion nearing.
Faced with falling even further behind in making a living, and progressing the painting dreams and ambitions of a lifetime, I chose to paint. To paint something else.
The next day was an occasion where presents would be given. Something told me this would be the last occasion where I would be able to participate in the giving. I had wanted to do something for this person for so long. So, sick and unable to paint or compute, I dragged myself outside and took a bus 5 miles. To purchase a large canvas. Because 18 months earlier they had said they wanted a large one.
Then I brought it home. And I returned to bed.
Under the covers I told myself that to even try this was madness, or at best, impossible in this timeframe. Unfinished attempts at less ambitious ideas littered so many years of my painting life that I had stopped trying years earlier.
And then it occurred to me that if I really liked this person this much and really wanted to paint this painting for them, that it would just happen - even if the occasion to give the painting was the next day.
As that day would be spent with family I knew I wouldn’t see them then but I would the following day, so maybe in that day there was just about enough time to paint it. Or at least to try. And if I couldn’t paint it, whether because I was sick or because there wasn’t enough time, well then it wasn’t meant to be painted.
And that thought took the pressure off. So I relaxed. And went back to sleep.
The next day I got up late, ignored my computer - save for clicking onto music - and I picked up my brushes.
Although I only had one day with the canvas, I was years into it in my head.
24 hours later the painting was completed, give or take a few strokes that were done in my head anyway. So I called the victim and told them I had something.
Handover was arranged.
The last time I had done a painting straight through to within a few strokes of completion it took me 2 years to find that final half hour for those strokes. But this time, having now announced it’s completion, I went back to the brushes and kept going.
And then I varnished.
Eolaí gan Fhéile:
…but where’s the photo of the painting??!!??
I’m with Martha, where’s the painting?! On the other hand, a painting “years in the head” and painted for someone special maybe gets to stay out of the public eye for awhile? In any case, congrats on getting the inner critic out of the way so the inner artist could shine out. Would you please take my inner editor on a similar holiday so my next draft of my novel will progress…?
I’m sure they were thrilled to have your work, Eolai.
And I’ll cast another vote for a picture.
Thanks all. No picture this time though; there’ll be plenty of other days.