I miss her already…

I finally finished my painting for Susan Tuttle’s book and sent it off yesterday. It’s funny… I am discovering how those paintings that give me the most trouble end up being my best. I also become very attached to them. Many people liken the creation of art to giving birth, but I think the process of painting a challenging piece is more than that; it’s like raising a child through an easy birth, a hyperactive childhood, a troubled adolescence, and then experiencing the magical transformation that often occurs in early adulthood. After all I’ve been through with this painting, I’d love to keep her around for a while to enjoy her beauty, her wit, her multi-faceted personality, but… she has places to go and people to meet. I’ll see her again sometime next year, first on the pages of Susan’s book, and finally when she returns home for a visit.

Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee’s wing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, oh she was running wild
She said “As long as there’s no price on love, I’ll stay
And you wouldn’t want me any other way”

– Richard Thompson – from Bee’s Wing