painting is hard. sometimes physically,
but its really not the physical thats a problem
with the making of art.
lets be honest, painting a picture
is not a 30 minute kettlebell session.
and its certainly not training with a badass stud
whose main goal is to choke you unconscious...

nonetheless, it can be a hard grind--
this practice of paint handling.

i'm not complaining.
we ask for so much of our suffering
that further comment is beyond redundant
and in the end, who cares?

a productive day of experimenting
and honing the craft.
fair enough.
and then, somehow,
the doubt creeps in.
the sulphorous odor
of ambition not met and $$$ not there.

and? well, i painted my way out of it...

for better or worse.
and lived to tell the tale.

life is good--
i'm a blessed man living and working
in a great city with a great family
pursuing my dreams.

but there are times of hardship--
not the hardship of a lack of coin in pocket,
or sleeping on cardboard
in the German countryside to be sure--
but there is hardship.
life-- the gods,
have a need to keep a man honest
or perhaps humble.

or if not humble,
at least on his game...

there are moments of loss--
bereft of a compass for such latitudes.
the brush, burdened as it is with paint
cannot make a mark.
the canvas slack--
impotent against the labors of sanding...

the idea that brought solidity to a composition
is now a lumpen impediment to progress
or, indeed, finality...

upon returning home,
my amazing wife surprised me
with a pair of grass-fed sirloins...

the evening was set:
a fine dinner from the grill
a finer Cabernet (Keenan '09)
and a bottle and bed
for baby Deegan...

it was not to be...
as i laid my daughter down for the night
she twisted into a baroque posture
that i could not accept.
in adjusting her,
i brought fourth a wrath
far greater
than any god
or woman
i've come across...

hours later, mother and daughter sleep
soundly...
and i type these words.

things can go wrong-
for any number of reasons
at any time--
many of which are inconvenient...
our duty is to stagger
through the drama--
willful and somewhat intact...

it was a great day in the studio
but there were thorns
along the path...

and with the thorns
came wounds.

but the wounds healed
as quickly as the paint dried...