This painting is going no where. So some of the voices in my head moan from their cushions. True. There are layers and layers of paint and oil pastel and gel medium. A casualty of being the Sunday painter. With an occasional peck of the brush during the lone spare minute of a week night.
Yet all is not lost. Something is emerging. At a pace overtaken by snails and tectonic plates. Such is the way of incremental painting. A relative of Nibble writing. In the process I’ve even excrete a second blog post before the next month is born.