There are four paintings glaring at me! Or they hiss and whisper menacingly at me when I traipse through the studio on some non-art-related errand. They are irked that I haven't finished them. I've left them hanging in the accursed 'middles'. I had no trouble starting them; I'd even go as far as to say I might have experienced a bit of exhilaration in the process...But then I hit the doubt-wall, hard: how do I finish the paintings without ruining them.
A few months ago I was procrastinating over starting things, most things, not just paintings. I got over the inertia by setting up a little system, and I thought that once over the initial bit it would be a smooth process. Now the trouble is the interminable middle bit. Starting a painting is a doddle; I can't put one aside quick enough to get to the next. At this rate I will have a studio full of possibilities within a couple of months. To analyze my behavior, I'd say that I'm enjoying the potential of great paintings without having to endure any failures. Can't mess up what ya don't touch.
Two of the paintings were started in an unusual circumstance. Generally I listen to the radio or music collection while working. With these two paintings I was listening to a strange audio book (I grabbed on an impulse) from the library, and now every time I look at them, I hear the narration in my head. I've convinced myself that I can't work on them again until I borrow that specific audio book again. It was "Uncle Montague's Tales of Terror", by Chris Priestly (Dave Roberts is the illustrator, but as it was the audio book version I wasn't able to appreciate his work.). The book and paintings have no correlation besides what's in my head. There are plenty of ways to associate bright and colorful with dark and creepy, though that is not the intention of these paintings.