Sometimes I get lulled into a comfortable haze and forget to panic at the beginning of a new piece. Sure enough the panic will be there, if only a little later when nothing wants to work out. The brushes go on strike and the paints all become chameleons and wont stay true to to the names on the tubes.
Fortunately panic restores normality to function and I reset to default levels.
The wolf adventure piece I am working on lulled me into thinking that it would be quick and easy. It was supposed to be. It isn't supposed to be a magnum opus... evidently the work itself has other ideas on this matter.
None of the usual tricks and devices want to work. I think its called a learning curve. Just when I thought I was done with curves.
It has become more of a collection of small individual images knitted together like a group of friends who look out for one another. I get the feeling they will gang up on me as I add to their number. I may need Hoarknockle to be in close attendance at all times to spot me, much like a weightlifter has. Just in case they become belligerent. Can't have that.
The surgeon's hand goes into the little box at the bottom of the work. Cannot allow work to intrude on adventure, which is why the door can close and lock.
The woodpecker is almost done. The hummingbird, the fish and the warning note need some urgent attention.
Time for my five minute, pre-tea, panic.
Hoarknockle is wearing his rubber leggings today.
Lady Sandra is on the prowl.
Swine flu shot later.