This painting was a test of my creative courage. It started life in fiery reds and oranges, lots of swoops, swirls, dots... it looked like a dancing woman, and I was so sure that is where it was destined to become.
But, it wasn't working. Every line, every color, felt wrong. The little voice in the back of my head whispered to cover half the canvas in prussian blue, but I resisted. I was afraid and full of judgement towards the piece, so I kept on trying to push it.
As long as I resisted it, nothing worked. Once I surrendered and followed that little voice, once I trusted in the mystery and the process, there were no more snags.
It's like a metaphor for life, isn't it?
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