RIP

One of the unfortunate aspects of my detoxing from my nerve medication is the incredible mood swings. the rage, depression and fear override everything else making me almost insane. The drug reaction emphasizes my obsessive characteristics making me pick away at things incessantly. This was one of the results during my second stage which I am now, thankfully, over. (one more stage to go)

When I paint one of these white pieces I have to repeat lines over and over again to get the perfect result. it’s obsessive in nature and frustrating but almost meditative. it gives me a chance to examine each line – is that the best I can do? does it have the right shape/clarity/gravity? was the last one better? there is no going back and I get stuck between my expectations for myself and what I can realistically accomplish with a fast drying medium.

Add the two together and well, you get this. This piece started out pretty well, in fact I finished it in record time. then the obsession started – maybe I can do better, this isn’t quite right, this line isn’t perfect.. so I changed a little bit. then I changed a little more, then I started to descend into madness. The magnified obsession started to take hold and I slipped into a spiral of picking away at the piece until I took it apart and slowly killed it. there is no other word for it. I flew into a rage and destroyed the piece, stabbing and ripping the canvas and ruining my knives, then collapsed in depressed misery.

I haven’t been able to paint since.

I am going to lock myself in my studio tonight and paint something – I have to get over this block. I feel like I killed this work in cold blood and I am afraid of doing it again. but I am going crazy not painting either. which is worse? insanity while painting or insanity without painting?

2 thoughts on “RIP”

To me, ‘RIP’ looks like the emotion you describe. The larger scrape mark looks like the woman is kicking in a frenzy of frustration. The horizontal mark; a flail across her back.

I know the bloody awful feelings I have when I kill a work I’ve put all that effort into, and my work is only work of the head and hands, not also of the heart and soul like yours is.

Could this be less break down and more break through for you? Perhaps you are winding up for an outbreak of your wilder, freer work? May be you have another dark, dark, achingly dark piece gestating, adding to your restlessness? Or perhaps you will take yourself under control and determinedly work your way through the work you have planned, which will be an accomplishment of epic proportions under the circumstances.

Good luck.

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