The reason I feel it's not what I wanted, is due in part to the fact that it happened to come at an inconvenient time. It has come at a time when I really wanted to knock paintings out right and left and use my short time of living solely by my brush to it's full advantage. Instead, I've poured countless hours into paintings and have had half a dozen works after spending 40 to 60 hours on them, that I've just had discard -repainting over them or throwing them up in my painting rack for a future date.
Ironically, I will probably look back on the last six months and feel everything was as it should have been, if I haven't just started to feel that way today. It's also very plausible that this growth period could not have occurred while I was busy working 40 hours a week at a day job. It's only with the extra time that I've had to spend painting that I have been able to reestablish what my work is about by picking up elements that were left behind with the greater exploration of realism over the last few years. These elements being that of collaged text and found materials. When those elements didn't fit; I simply chose to discard them. I saw it as a matter of listening to the canvas and that particular canvas was telling me that it didn't need it. I still stand by those decisions.
Only later did I find myself standing in the middle of a gallery surrounded by my work with the odd feeling that something was missing this last September.
In other news:
I started my new part-time graphic design position Today that will allow me plenty of time to paint unlike my previous jobs, while stabilizing my finances a bit. It's a nice change of pace as well, because I'm only designing and I'm not handling other kinds of business.
It takes the pressure of expanding my representation out of state off my shoulders a little bit. I can simply focus on entering my work into themed exhibits and let things happen as they may.
