Here is completed painting. I think. I am never sure when things are done. Usually I just get tired of dabbing and quit. And it is almost time for my soap opera, anyway. It got brightened up, and colors intensified (I had underpainted in yellow ochre, and proceeded to work wet-in-wet, which made mud in some instances), and I put in the high and low lights for some good value contrast. Oh, hell, I just changed it a little. Enough, I hope to make it really succulent. I showed a picture of it to my Dad yesterday, and he said "Gee, you haven't gotten very far along, have you." And I replied, well, if you want reality, here is the reference photo. I think paintings are so much more fun, though, don't you? It's like a new reality emerges from the canvas, one ever so much better than the real one. And isn't that what we are all looking for, a sweeter reality? And the hours I spend doing this stuff, well, it's out of time and mind, the true state of being according to Eckhart Tolle, my current spiritual guru. Those times are joyful beyond imagination.
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