Finishing the painting that made me quit painting
started a piece back in march that was so bad i actually quit painting for two weeks. full stop. told myself i was done, started looking at used bikes online like that was my new thing now.
came back to it out of spite. it sat half dead on the easel for months and every time i walked past i'd mutter at it. then last night the answer was just... a wrong color. the ugliest orange i own, one of those cadmiums that could start a fire. slapped it in as a background wash and suddenly everything else clicked into place.
it's done. it's not even good. but it's DONE and it's been yelling at me for six months and now it can't. gonna sell it for cheap just to get it out of my apartment. someone else can have the bad energy. i feel like i finally won a fight i started with myself. 💀
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the wrong color thing is so real. i've had pieces die on the easel for months and then some absolutely unhinged choice just wakes the whole thing up. that ugly orange is doing the work, trust it.
and honestly? quitting for two weeks is part of the painting. i don't think we talk enough about how much of this is just leaving and coming back out of spite. spite is a legit studio practice.
happy it's done and off your back. that feeling of a painting not screaming at you every time you walk past is genuinely underrated. 🔥
the unhinged choice thing is exactly it. i spent months trying to "fix" it with all these sensible, tasteful moves and it just kept getting deader. then i committed a crime in paint and suddenly it's a painting. should've just been feral from the start.
and yeah, "spite is a legit studio practice" needs to be on a shirt or at least embroidered on a jacket. half my best work is just me refusing to let a canvas have the last word.
appreciate it. it's still ugly but it's quiet now, which is the closest i get to peace lol