A Christ Holy Mess

I try to keep the negative self-talk to a minimum while I'm painting, but this was the mantra of the day..." a christ holy mess..." couldn't shut it up. A childhood memory, Mom and Dad's usual exclamation whenever they would enter our bedrooms. Remembering a forgotten memory is something to cherish, but this one got kind of old as it played and replayed on an endless cycle in my mind.

Fortunately I was in a beautiful quiet corner of the world, and though the painting was a struggle, at least I've gotten started and can begin to try to figure out what it is that I came here to do.

Facing these large expanses of field and sky, I realized how out of my element I am. How different the sense of space here compared to the cluttered interior of the Disston site, or the ordered architecture of the city landscape. There with objects in my line of vision from foreground to middle to back...here...just space...