Not the painting I describe, but another one of mine.
Last week in the studio, we could see the agitation in Burrard Inlet. Large, rolling waves washed up all sorts of debris; the sky changed rapidly—opening, closing, lifting, descending—rain coming, for sure. An electrical charge in the air, and we got down to work, without much talk.
I taped paper onto three boards, mixed my palette, wet the paper, and worked in quick, loose strokes with a palette knife over the whole thing once. Then I put it aside and picked up another board. Added new mixtures to the palette, wet the paper, and again went at it with the palette knife, not squinting exactly, but close. Soft focus. I wanted it to breathe today, did not want to work in the dense, close, layered way I’d been working last spring. Stay loose, I kept thinking. Leave space. Stop. Step back. Return.
The pigment was getting thick in places, so I pressed other colours into the mounds that had formed. I mixed and re-mixed paint in small patches right on the paper and then spread some of them out in a wide arc—then, I went in again with the palette knife to work daubs of pigment back into the mounds.
It was time to stop again.