I’ve hit that point where I feel old and it’s not because I spoke to someone younger who questioned my music taste. I tend to really hunch over when I’m painting portraits so I can nail the details, but now it’s taking a toll on my back. Also boxing 5 times a week isn’t really helping me either. Most artists do yoga and go to farmer’s markets, but I don’t fit in any type of general category. I prefer being in a ring and eating red meat. Lately I’ve been making myself take breaks so I can stretch. Chances are by the time I’m 30 I’ll be practicing Tai Chi while I paint.

The portrait is so close to being completed. Less than 5 sessions and it’s in the bag. I don’t ever want to make it seem that I’d physically kick the painting out of the studio if I could. That would be rude. The overwhelming desire to work on other things is making antsy. I’m a kid on a road trip to Disney World who has to eat his packed lunch in the parking lot before he can get inside the park. I’m going to unhinge my creative jaw and devour it in the next week. Time frustrates me as opposed to more common artist problems like not being confident with your own skill level or not knowing when to stop painting. I’m aware of how far I can push it and where to leave things off. The hours just need to be put in. I’m also kinda happy that my client isn’t coming in anymore because I’d probably refuse looking at him at this point. I get to enjoy a visual breather that’s going to stop me from staring him down aggressively while grinding my teeth as I politely ask how his trip was.

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To help my back situation and sanity, I worked on an abstract today. Art is medicine. The more I know what I’m doing, the more challenging this gets. Especially near the end of the piece. Your taste develops and you get picky. I listen to the paintings after I’m done working for the day and I feel our conversations become more specific. In a way it’s like a relationship. We start talking about anything and everything about ourselves. We’re vague at first, but it gets to a point where we hint to each other what areas need work. Finally we get to the point where we are so blunt with one another and say it how it is. When it becomes perfect, there’s no need for anyone of us to speak. What was once a highway of information has now become empty. We move on from each other. When you get to meet it, you’ll see my marks and see our story. It ends with me so it can begin with you.