The new piece I'm working on started of as a shitstorm... quite literally. Ha ha. I was trying a format that I was uncomfortable with, believing it would just come from me, as if I would already know how to do it. The format would have been more realistic. I wanted the painting to be in the form of flowing silk cloth. Different sections would be different colors. At this moment I am reminded of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Fuck me....
I soon realized that I have no idea how to paint realism, so the painting turned purely abstract, mostly to save what ego I had left in the project, but also because this is a $100 canvas and simply can't afford to waste it *concerned faux-smile*. At the point where I accepted that I wasn't going to pull a semi-realist painting out of my ass the project took a turn. A near 180 degrees in fact.
I started making obscure, small brush dabs at certain locales on the canvas, on top of splotches of color that I'd previously painted. They reminded me of people off in the distance, all grouped together, but I'm not sure why. There is a sense of defiance and maybe a hint of sadness.
After that, I washed my brushes, thinking I was done.
So I picked up my brushes and my favorite color to paint, which is red and began creating filled red boxes and rectangles in random places and sizes through the center-right of the painting. This fulfilled my need of minimalism on top of my previous failure. It gave me a sense of returning home. Though not finished, I'm thinking of dubbing the painting: "Your red boxes can't make us leave, we were here first!"