I’m home and can paint again. I can’t stand making paintings like this. Why do I keep doing it? Flogging a dead horse. Initially it was a challenge I think but this is so tedious. It doesn’t mean anything. I think I’m losing my mind. Photography, drawing, writing, graphic-type stuff, whimsy, irony – that’s who I am but not THIS. These good for nothing paintings are simply not who I am inside nor who I have any desire to be. Why did I waste so much time trying to become proficient in this way? No more. And no more of anything until I’ve had time to settle into life at home after two months away.
