November 14, 2023
Emptied the last sacks of dirt and mulch, finished with the garden except for a few loads of fallen leaves I want to dump on the new tulip beds. Painting ferociously. When I’m painting I’m not very much interested in writing. When I’m writing I have no impulse to paint. Do the disciplines fight it out somewhere inside my head to see who rules the coming week? The hiatus I gave to painting after 2019 has been miraculous. The fastest way to describe the difference would be the intuition to accept happy accidents. Second, to stare at the canvas long enough to understand what it wants to bear. Since then, so image that I really wanted to make has resisted me.
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