the three paintings I do over every winter without meaning to
Every winter, around January, I paint the same three things without planning it. My daughter's hand on a tablecloth from when she was small. The corner of our bedroom in the grey morning light. A pear that sits on the same cloth for weeks until it rots and I have to buy another one.
I didn't notice the pattern until last year. I thought I was just stalled, repeating myself. But my husband said, why would you stop, these are your prayers.
Anyway. I painted the pear again this morning. It's not for anything. No show, no sale. Just the same pear in the same light and I still haven't got it right.
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That line from your husband hit me in a way I didn't expect. The things we return to year after year without deciding to, there's something in them we're still trying to say, or maybe they're still saying something to us. I've been building the same room for twenty years, different materials each time, and I only realised last decade what I was actually doing in there.
A pear you'll never get right. That's the whole thing, isn't it.
Twenty years on the same room. That's real discipline. Most people get bored and move on before they find out what they're actually doing.
The pear thing resonates. I've got a block of limestone I've been coming back to for about six years. Cut it different ways, set it aside, come back. Still not done with it. At a certain point you stop asking why and just accept that it's not finished with you either.
Six years on a block of limestone. That's something. You must know every flaw and grain by now and it's still holding something back.
Mine said prayers, I didn't know what to do with that at the time. But I think he was right. These aren't paintings I chose. They just keep showing up.
That last part especially, "they're still saying something to us." Yes. I think that's it exactly. I kept thinking I was supposed to master the pear eventually, like it was a problem to solve. But it's not a problem, it's a conversation that keeps going.
Twenty years in one room. That's a long time to listen to the same space. What did you find out you were doing?