Following a season of exhibitions, the dominant response in the studio is indulgence.  Intense, garish colors are sought in all things – dreams, clothes, brilliantly hued foods on a plate – as well as on new canvases.  As if to get something out of my system, I gave a week over to undisciplined unwieldy creative energy, abandoning any notion of a finished product or a successful painting.  Slices of canvases follow.


I secretly love to pour color and tip canvases, lifting 90 degrees the other way, rivulets forming grids.  The many-squared patterns satisfy something in my brain that wants to feel order, especially within randomness, ever since getting scrambled from a head injury several years ago.


The studio floor is the ongoing most beautiful, ever-changing chaos of all.


Magenta can be a reach for depth, showing up often as drama, and I’ve been trying to avoid it, so of course it showed up too, and not subtly.


Red washed over a completely dry gray blue made this hash of eggplant with silvery shadows.


In this attitude, there were no failures this week.  The primaries were wheeled out as well as their brashly conjoined color wheel opposites, and laid one over the other to make welcome dark hot tones interspersed with nondescript muddy colors.  They were painted for the sheer joy of watching.