My canvas in front of me. With my brush in my hand, I start thinking about how best to fill the vast, flat, white, empty canvas with a three dimensional form. Again, contrast comes into play, like the black and white images at work. But this time, I am the one producing something out of nothing, for someone else to interpret and put together. My art will take over now, allowing me to use colour to bridge the monochromatic pictures of my work. Carefully, and meticulously, I begin. A brushstroke here, and one there. Steadily, I start putting it together, mixing my colours and decorating the canvas. My mind races as I work, sometimes slowing me down, sometimes propelling me forwards. Nothing about what I do is random, and every decision must be made carefully. Eventually, the painting takes shape and becomes complete, an image unto itself. I strive to convey the viewer into the scene of my painting so they experience the scent of my florals, hear the rustling of the leaves in my landscapes, feel the chill in my snowscapes and hear the crashing of the waves in my seascapes. My process similar to my previous painting, yes, but never the same.
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