and there i am. im in the zone. i am thinking of the right combination, my hair comes undone with my frustration and i run my hand over my mouth, forgetting the paint that is smeared on my fingers. my cheeks puff out, my feet tap, my left eyebrow always itches. the paintbrush is forgotten though still in hand, my palm, fingernails, and knuckles become so much more important in this game of me versus the paint. there is no ending until either i vanquish my dissatisfaction or it vanquishes me. it is not about being the artist. about being the painter, creator. it is about being the transformer. being changed by this painting. and in the end i am comforted.

Painting is an attempt to come to terms with life.
George Tooker.