I went into the studio completely prepared to pull an all night’er only to discover that after few carefully painted marks the painting was finished. It feels almost as if the painting said, “Mikaela, put your brushes down, and let me be. I’m good. You are afriad to let go, but I’ve been finished for days now. Go home, sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
It is a strange feeling to finish a painting – both sad and wonderful. I imagine it must be similar to watching your child walk to her first day of school. Happy to finally have quiet alone time, but terribly afraid of loosing your daily companionand inspiration for moving through the day. Who is a painter without her painting or a mother without her child? Simply themselves and that’s a difficult thing to be.