Truly. Deeply. Madly

I have started, and then discarded four posts today.

Not because I was wroth and sought discretion over rampage. Not because I was afraid of hurting someone's feelings if I Spoke Truth. Not because of any tooth-and-nail prudence, or any such noble aspiration. No, I deleted all those posts because they said, each of them, essentially NOTHING!

I've been feeling chatty and social all day, but, wanting to stay out of the way of the workmen, have been mewed up in my office since day began. If I'd not had this painting to distract me, I'd have probably found someone unwary online and been That Commenter. You know the one; pings out of the blue and then has nothing to say, but won't get offline and let you live your life? It's hard to be That Commenter when you've a napkin in one hand and a brush in the other.

These kinds of painting days were some of the very best days Tim and I had at Underhill Arts. When we'd both found our strides on projects that interested and excited us, and we'd sit at our facing drafting tables, and more or less ignore each other all day, but for when we'd put in some musical or other, and sing the whole libretto to each other over our work. For as stressful as the business was, and as humbling, and sometimes downright painful as it was to work with an artistic genius like him, and to be constantly overshadowed in every respect by what he could do, I really do miss the plain old fun of working with him. I miss the silly pun wars. I miss the spontaneous Aliens recitals inserted into random conversations. I miss the brainstorming when one of us was trying something new and daring. I miss the dealer's room days, and the art show nights. And no, I do NOT miss mail-in art shows like Dragon Con defrauding us. Neither do I miss the thankless hustle of publishing commissions. But I do miss the sort of boho groove we could sometimes fall into.

Especially on days like this one, when the painting I'm working on is turning out far far beyond my hopes, and it looks better than anything I've yet done. It's just the kind of thing he could have -- on a good day, would have, -- enhanced, magnified, and reflected back to me. That's how we were with each other when times were good. That's what I miss when I paint. I think that's why I paint so rarely anymore.

Anyway. The painting's fucking gorgeous. We're talking about a commission here, as well as MY artwork, so I want folks to take notice of the fact that I'm not knocking the thing, as is my wont. I'm not talking it down, and that's a fairly significant thing with me. That's because the painting's that good. Technique wise, it's done everything I've asked of it, and actually gone a bit far beyond. The weird characteristics of the paper aren't so troubling to me as they had been, and even the experimental materials I'm using bid fair to behave themselves reasonably well. I hope I'm not jinxing it when I say:

It

Could

WORK!