She stood in front of the big one from last spring, the 200 by 160, and said the top third looks unfinished. Not wrong, unfinished. Then she moved on to the next wall.

The thing is, that third is the only part of the painting I would defend. It is three passes of cold wax scraped back almost to the ground, thin enough that you see the weave and the underpainting breathing through. It took longer than the rest put together. It is quiet on purpose. Her eye wanted something to land on there, and I understand the wanting, but I have been making the case for ten years that a painting is allowed to have a place where nothing happens.

Now I am in the studio three days later and I catch myself looking at that corner like it is a mistake. This is the part nobody warns you about. The critique does not become a thought, it becomes a light source, and everything looks a little different under it.

I do not think I will change it. But I am less sure than I was on Tuesday, and I resent that a little. Naja.

Has anyone else had a remark like this lodge in the eye and refuse to leave? And did you hold the line or did you eventually see what they saw?