30 Paintings in 30 Days - Day 29

"Love Swept Over" - mixed media on 300 lb watercolor paper, 11" x 15".  Ready to frame.  Available at Artfinder.

Grandfather: "They rode to freedom. And as dawn arose, Westley and Buttercup knew they were safe. A wave of love swept over them. And as they reached for each other- -" Grandson: What? What?
Grandfather: Naw, it's kissing again, you don't want to hear that.
Grandson: Well, I don't mind so much.
           from The Princess Bride

The penultimate day of the 30 day challenge and a return to abstracted seascapes.  This one is an experiment with texture, with scored gesso over 300 lb watercolor paper and about a dozen layers of paint, scratchings and buffing.  A little pink on the horizon for our happy Westley and Buttercup as they ride off into the distance to live happily ever after.

This is an especially special painting for me.  Number 800. Yes, that's right - 800.  

When I first set off on the path of art, I was advised to paint 400 pieces.   After 400, it was said, I would know what the heck I was doing.  I determinedly counted each and every painting until I reached that number (which we celebrated a couple of years ago right here, dear reader!) and then kept on going.  So the question is, do I feel doubly capable after 800?  Hmmmmmm.  As with any skill we set out to master, the more I know, the more I know I don't know much.  I feel more in awe of the masters than ever.  More in awe of people in my art tribe who create astounding art.  And more humbled by how many really grand artists there are in the world.

But I do feel less intimidated, more willing to try just about anything and less "in my head" about whatever I am painting (or needle felting or collaging).   And I do get a sense that my hands just work even when my brain wanders off...like running and problem solving, I guess.  Your body keeps moving even when your mind isn't all there.  There is also a freedom from preciousness...I am less attached to the art and more willing to paint over it, alter it, tear it into pieces.  

One thing hasn't changed in 800 paintings - the miracle of a finished piece.  The ten foot view, when I step back and look and wonder "how did I do that?"  and a sense of surprise.  I am ever grateful to be on this path, following the paint.