rough

I had a professor in college who said painting is a lot like standing behind a horse. You know you shouldn't stand there but you are. The horse kicks you, you fall down, you get back up, your dazed, but instead of moving, you just stand there. You know you should move, but you can't. And so the horse kicks you again. And the cycle repeats.

I don't feel moved to paint everyday. And I know a lot of other artists who don't either. and I know some who wake up hot to paint, and can't quit. I am the kind of person or artist or painter or whatever that if something else peaked my creativity tomorrow, I would be fine never creating another piece of work again. But then again what is the work?

is it the actual act of creation that fufills me or is it the craft of painting? I know it isn't the finished work because as I'm sure some other artists can attest, once I am finished with a work, I am done with it. Dead. I don't care if I ever see it again. It's over and I am on to something else.

So then, what makes the painter? Is it the work, the finished product, or the actual act of painting.

anyway.......