What these snowflakes mean is that I am going to have a larger infinite time in the studio tonight. The chores are done and there is unexpected "free" time on the horizon. The icing on the gravy is that Miso has finally become mature enough to hang out with me into the wee hours.
So, as I leave my wife and daughter cuddled in a blanket in front of the Jøtul, I pull the first piece of god-knows-what off of my stack to edit.
Should I keep The White Rock Girl? It is just a magazine advertisement. I've shared it with you now, so why keep this piece of paper around? I love the colors and the brush treatment and the clumsy font. I am embarrassed to admit that the objectification of the female form stirs some appreciation in my adolescent inner self. Past that, I wonder why I have been fascinated with the creamy/marigold/nicotine quality of aging paper? As a painter proficient in mimicking old shit, I often wonder why "aging" adds integrity? Is it simply the patina-like warmth of complicated colors? Image sourceUPDATE:
And then the power went out.