I’m grateful to the generous and talented Michael Wright for letting me contribute to his excellent newsletter, Still Life, a few weeks back. An excerpt:
I turned to the canvases leaning against walls and cabinets. Tilting the outer, newer works against my body as I flipped through to older pieces, I pulled a long abstract painting and set it on my workbench. Had the painting eluded me, or had I eluded it? Had I, echoing Augustine, stepped outside myself while the true painting remained within? It wouldn’t have been the first time external pressures had led me in the studio.
I stood there a moment and then impulsively grabbed a paint scraper from my toolbox. The metal blade slashed through the painting, leaving the fabric limp and frayed. A moment later I put my foot through another and broke a third in half before dragging them both to the trash. I wasn’t angry—not exactly. And yes, it was overly dramatic. But I instantly felt lighter, a sense of agency returning. As I kept working, a little calmer now, I rid two frames of their compositions and set them aside to be covered anew. Finally, I laid a large, abandoned canvas on the studio floor and began painting over it freely, until the surface once again opened into possibility. And then I was exhausted but in a blissful, centered kind of way.
Read the whole thing, including Michael’s extremely insightful commentary.
