Private Journal Entry #2

by Steve Mitchell



Dear Diary,

I can’t talk long today diary.  I don’t have a work out so I’ve got time to get back into the painting I’m doing for R.

This time, so far, I’m very happy with it.  I’m 90 percent done.  I know I’ll make things worse before they get better, trying to finish off that last 10 percent – that’s how it always goes.  But I’m happy with the piece and the rest is just finishing and polishing.

And it’s a relief.  A huge relief.

It’s been hanging over my head since I…what?  wrecked?  flubbed?  f*&cked up the first attempt.  I literally painted over the whole thing.  It’s not the first painting I’ve painted over.

But, it’s weighed on me.  I’m not a skilled artist.  I can’t reliably do what I want to do.  Can anyone?  I don’t know.  I guess not.  Geniuses maybe.

If it were just for me,  I’d have written off the first attempt and no big deal. I might’ve vented my frustration on it.  I might’ve thrown it out.  I might’ve just painted over it. I’d have been over it by now.

But R. loved the previous painting I’d made him so much, I felt internalized pressure to make something just as love-worthy.

I think it’s maybe a big part of where my head has been these last weeks.  It’s nagged at me.  It’s colored my perception of myself and the world.

I’ll talk later, Diary, about where my head has been.  It’s nothing new, really.  I was hoping I’d sort of outgrown it but…

It’s for later.  I have to go paint.albatross

See you later, Diary.