While straightening up the garage yesterday, I ran across this painting. This is a detail of an "unfinished" painting that I painted some 20 years ago or more - so, apparently it is finished. I never even gave it a title.
Usually a painting is at least somewhat planned out before you begin painting but this one was a doodle-painting, where I just started painting and let the composition evolve. Some of my own work that I most enjoyed producing, and which seems most interesting to look at are doodle-works.
However, this one and another one are both 90% finished because there was no plan and I found it difficult to resolve the painting when I got to the end. Besides not having a plan, probably the more likely reason the paintings are unfinished is because I started to care about them. There comes this point when I stopped impulsively creating and thought, "Hey I like this. I want to paint a really excellent conclusion to it." And then I was suddenly stymied. Because the whole reason why the painting was going so well was because I wasn't overly concerned about it. It is the most allusive ability to tap into intentionally. But when it happens it is an absolute joy.







If it seemed the least bit real, I wouldn't be amused by it. It is the extreme contrast from reality that makes it so funny - like the movers who struggle to get the beautiful grand piano up the long stair case and at the last minute drop it down to the sidewalk, smashing in a thousand pieces. 


By that I mean that it appears to be part of a story but there was no story that went with it. At the time, I was considering illustrating children's stories but hadn't written much - hence the illustration without a story.