Everything it seems is bout the search. My painting process has slowed as the weather turns colder and the festivities of winter take up a larger part of the mind.
Even as the process has slowed though, I find it becoming more laborious. Things are muddy and I respond in kind. Layering, rubbing, scraping, and building up lines like sediment in a stream. Somehow making a map and a landscape – perhaps external, perhaps internal.
There is no place to go with this map, no path to follow too long, or treasure to find. It’s all just there, spilling out. A way to be here, a way to know here. Green and Gold, like so many good things.