I learned a new term when I was in the built-surface painting class:
As in, “That painting is resolved.” Basically it means that the project looks finished. The problems that it presented during its creation, whatever they were, have been resolved.
I thought it was a nice little term. But with each stroke of my brush and with each scrap of paper I add to the surface of my latest painting, the meaning becomes more and more real to me and, unfortunately, quite elusive.
The word keeps running through my head like Pee Wee Herman’s secret word.
Resolved! Pee-Wee screams in my brain.
Resolved!
This particular painting, to come straight to the point, is NOT resolved.
I have been working on the same canvas for way too long (or so it seems for a woman who suffers from the need for everything to have been done yesterday). First it was circles, which I subsequently wrecked by adding too much blood and brown. Then I was inspired by a mossy rock and I went too far with that theme and…oh my…now it is suffering from lime-blob overkill.
It needs something. Or it needs less of something.
I look at it and look at it. I dab here, I scrape there, I add paint, then I remove the same paint…all while Pee Wee sings his one-word song.
Curiously, instead of feeling defeated, I feel a rather singular determination to find the answer. Even when I’m away from the studio, I find myself mulling over possible solutions. Rather than being frustrated, I’m slowly learning when to walk away, to leave it alone, to step back and give it some space.
Tomorrow, I tell myself between Pee Wee’s chorus, tomorrow is another day and I will have fresh eyes.
Tomorrow…it just might be resolved.
Related articles:
