Well, this morning I did something I’ve done my whole career and plum forgot about it. It was always a, I don’t know, salubrious occasion. I did my final “punch list,” a detailed list of details; clipping tags as a tailor would say, or a final sanding as a boat builder would do.
This list includes every detail and it’s a list that takes some time. Like the oil paint itself, if the background doesn’t meld with the foreground and the foreground with the background, then all you really have is a collection of separate vignettes. It’s a Mr. Potoato Head of art. Or, not art, whoever you asked.
Unfortunately, paintings … they’re ain’t like Christmas trees. You can’t just grab one ornament from everyone in the neighborhood and toss ’em onto a tree and get something quite beautiful.
The painting process is to me more like being clinically diagnosed with obsessive OCD because if just one thing’s out of place on a painting, it can literally drive me crazy. There are 11 items on my punch list. Thus, why it’s salubrious and not something worthy of a party. I can address them, one at a time.
Some people are that way about words and crap like proper English. To me, English is like horseshoes. Painting is like snipping. When someone points out that I’ve misspelled a word, or dropped an important word, I’m sorta like, “Yeah? So?” Not tags on a painting flapping all around in my head like I’m standing next to a bomb with a lit fuse.
It makes my heart go, “Ahhhhhh,” when the tags are finally itemized because I had no time to address them earlier in the process … because I was too busy painting the other stuff. Until they’re sorted and suitably eliminated, the “leftover scraps” are an irritant on a level I simply can’t describe because I lack the skill with words.
There’s an old saying, “If I had bread, I’d make a grilled cheese sandwich … if I had cheese.” Look at this photo. Notice the hunter’ hand? See bottom of the hunter’s hand is missing that would grip the throttle extension? That, alone, can drive me mondo bizarro!