I'm proud of myself for having completed each day's painting, on the past two days. A family campout with resultant lousy sleep (due to an airless air mattress) and then a return home to much storminess and tornado watches, kept me from posting those two days.
But I painted.
For these two days, I find myself leaning heavily toward accepting the paintings, just as they are. On Day 42, at first I was disappointed in how the aqua wash dulled the colors.
Yet a couple days later, I like the whole effect.
And still, I remember the original vividness, now forever silenced.
On Day 43, I painted when I was quite sleep-deprived, and twitchy due to storms all around, some in the physical atmosphere, and some in the region of my heart. With the first applications of paint to the page, I thought, "Phooey. This will obviously be the first day I just plain do not like the work at all. And maybe that is the lesson for this day."
With acceptance coming so early in that day's process, expectations leaked away. What could I do to hurt the painting, which was already a "lost cause?" So I just poked and plopped and swooshed paint, wherever I wanted.
Result? I liked the ending. No clue why. I just like it.
Almost every day I paint, the effort teaches me something about life and me. Just when I think I've dropped the labels of "good" and "bad," "failure" or "success," I find that I have evaluated once again. But the paintings are inviting me, pretty insistently, to DROP this response.
That's working pretty well with the painting.
Today, I'm trying it with me: just accept me as I am. Because I am.