Day 0072

Another painting based on my rambles around the countryside. This is the view over the fields of Poslingford, which I have been impressed with since childhood.

Guilty pleasure in painting blue sky, moving the brush and seeing colour spread, no thinking required. Therapeutic, but there is the huge inertia of 'can't be bothered' to overcome to get to the point of putting paint to canvas. Frittered away the entire day, could have spent hours painting but left it until the night again.

When I paint I think "if I keep at this maybe I'll one day be great". I can't help it. Pride is a distressingly large part of myself, my thoughts always turn inwards. Part of the reason for the inertia is knowing that once I actually commit marks to paper I have to confront the evidence before my eyes that I am not great, and won't be. How do you reconcile the inflated self-image with the reality of what is staring you in the face? Plough on, abandon, dream on.