Kathy's Nikon

12"x18" oil on canvas As is my usual practice, I hurled a lot of paint at this piece. Along with all that hurling is a fair amount of what I can only describe as flicking. Flicking is when my knife catches on something, bends, then snaps back to shape. It is a healthy by-product of the violent manner in which I paint. Flicking often results in paint joyously flying about the studio, landing in all directions and distances from my easel. I have found it on the studio's vaulted ceiling, 8 feet behind me, and in places and at distances that seem to defy physics. It can also end up on me. Sometimes it feels like the painting is fighting back—I am, after all, slashing at it with knives. Maybe the canvas feels threatened and is just acting in self-defense. When anthropomorphic thoughts like that cross over my four remaining brain cells, I know it is time to give them a rest.

Posted January 24, 2018

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