...of the Third Kind These days I'm feeling a bit like 'Roy Neary' (aka Richard Dreyfuss) from the 70s movie " Close Encounters of the Third Kind ". Instead of building mountains in my livingroom, however, I've been on a zentangle/doodle/pattern kick. (Aside: it really drives me nuts when folks try to copyright/trademark an activity. I mean, I've been doodling my entire life, well before 2004, pretty sure I'm not gonna stop simply because someone used a ™ . But I digress.)  For the most part, they have been organic floral thingees, created singularly as the main focal point in various journals, added to existing journal pages, on bits of paper which I've cut out to look sorta like stickers and even started a painting with them. And I have no idea where any of this is going. I have paintings waiting my attention. And I'm eager to get on with those but every. single. day. I head down into my studio and I end up sitting down and doodling my way ...
  Recently I've been embarking on a deep dive into abstract expressionism? intuitive painting? slapping paint on the canvas (read: board)? And in every piece I've created so far, I come to point where I suddenly discover I'm using a small brush, less than a #8, on paint mover or palette knife and am faffing about, trying to preserve sections I'm already in love with (or think might work in the whole...see? already conceptualizing the end product). And in every single case, I am, probably, less than halfway finished. It's a problem.  And that's where a painting becomes Too Precious.  I start visualizing the end result vs reacting to what's in front of me. My decisions are based on a preconceived, even vague, notion where intuition and emotion and flow go right out the window. The piece becomes stifled, ending up with PIECES I love but the whole isn't cohesive. The eye sticks at those pretty bits OR on the rest of the unresolved, "less than" whol...