Day 0369

Had a dream that I was unmasked as the selfish, manipulative charlatan that I am by a non-existent girlfriend who realised I was using her and did not love her. Characteristic of my relationships with everyone and it makes me sick.

Another morning portrait sitting, with predictably lackluster results. Must stick to it though and fight the temptation to throw it all out, not least because I don't want to have completely wasted my model's time and patience.

Bitterly cold outside. Went to the Louvre in the afternoon, looked without seeing at the floor of Objets d'arts that I'd never visited before. Went and looked at some Dutch and the Italian paintings. Desperately crowded. Van Dyke, Rubens, Raphael. Such productive artists, always working. Trying to motivate myself to be serious and devote real time to painting. Second-guessing whether it is a worthy cause to sacrifice sanity, career to. It is immensely selfish, undoubtedly. Craven desire to be recognized. But beauty is beauty and I want to immerse myself in it. Eyelids looking down, hands touching softly.

Felt dejected and in low spirits confronted yet once more with my own rank insignificance. Even great works are lost in the pantheon of the Louvre, so vast is the ocean of talent, learning, dedication of artists past. How pathetically miserable my own capacities are, and how contemptible that I should feel like I somehow owe it to myself and the world to push myself to explore and share my impoverished horizons. I felt a great emptiness and horror at the vast insignificance of it all, and of my hopes in particular. Tinged too with the knowledge that the feeling would pass and I would return to my default position of arrogance and feel like I have something rare and precious to give. Only in this deluded state can I make myself do anything at all.

Came home and worked on my sister's portrait, willing myself to work to the clock and just fill the time. Listened to Dostoyefsky, losing myself so far as possible in the romance.