|Ouroboros (almost) K Howell 2011 Pastel on Paper 28 cm x 28 cm|
Being in the forest is an opportunity to leave linear, historical time behind and move into the Möbius strip of Sacred Time. Where exist things infinitely more interesting than quantification, currency and turning lanes.
Generally, I'm working on a tight schedule when I go out to paint. We are all ultimately answerable to the evil Clock, and I find it very necessary to carve time out to ignore the passage of the same, if you follow.
In this way, art is alchemy, all about transmutation and immortal moments. In order to get started, I start as a matter of ritual. And the painting develops from there.
What will happen when one of the factors changes? In a few weeks, I will have more clock time to work. More clock time than has ever been at my disposal, really. Lots of larger paintings germinating. Many shiny new ideas waiting. I haven't thought too much about it, certainly haven't talked about it. Probably because I don't want to be paralysed by possibility.
I'm finishing the novel rewrite, with the full knowledge that I'll be going back to the beginning, reading through, and finding cringe-worthy bits that must be altered. Suddenly, I have this profound new respect for Finnegan's Wake. Which I couldn't properly finish. Begin Again. Awake.
Completion may be an illusion, but I'm very fond of the ouroboros. And I wholly empathise with that branch...