There are infinite possibilities. It’s a big rush. The ending of a painting is very different.
I slow way down.
I’ll spend time giving the canvas long stares and squints, studying the rhythm of the colors on the canvas. I might even think “it is done”, but most of the time, I’m wrong. I know this is part of my process, so I let it sit in the studio for awhile.
Trusting that absence makes the heart grow fonder…
When I look at it again, I’ll see it fresh. Something inside me lights up, that insists a particular shape be hidden by a pale yellow veil or a dark corner calls out for hint of cobalt. This can go on for weeks, months, or even years. It depends on the piece.
I can only stop answering when it stops speaking to me.
I love this part of the process as much as the rush in the beginning. It’s a little bittersweet because I know my time with the work is almost over.
I think a long goodbye is good goodbye, so I try to take my time.