It's Friday the 13th.
The reason I've not been writing for these past five days is that I don't know what to say. I'm faced with these two huge canvases that I've given a beginning color patch, and I'm stuck. I'm afraid I'm going to make a failure of it, and it will be Big Failure. It's a familiar place, this; I think of burning my side of the studio and all its contents, never to think of art or collage or painting again. God knows, if the occasional success didn't catch up with me, that's exactly what I would do.
I must find the energy to dive into this, because the time I can spend at the edge, inert, is limitless and I can't face a winter like last year.
My music is playing, the temperature is pleasant, I have my coffee beside me, and I have the day to myself. What more is there? Maybe this: Is there a patron saint of painters? I need to make appropriate prayers and promises and bribes: "Let me do this and I'll..............." (Fill in the blank.)
Let the day be productive and I'll get back with you.
PW
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