I’ve finally finished the piece ‘Automated Prospects’, and well…
I wonder if an artist, any artist,  would (could?!) complete any of their artworks…if they didn’t have a patron, or a deadline, or a show?! Now, I’m not talking about finishing the drawing, it’s all the unrecognised minuatae of a piece: tidying up all the edges, ensuring all the lines are crisp/sharp/unsmudged-by-a-wayward-elbow, cleaning up any fingerprints or smudges…and then the tedium really begins, oh lordy! The sealing, varnishing, buffing, framing, wiring for hanging etc. etc. etc. etc. however, all 100% necessary and therefore I can drag my feet up the hill.

It’s finally finished; the final dying embers of creativity, the last moments of birth…technical, chores,  methodical, banal details, the little details, polishing up…tidying up edges, etc…I try to convince myself that no one will notice, so I needn’t spend those agonising  hours finishing my work, to a level only reached by the chronically OCD…and so I don’t succumb to the muse, I walk away…for all of 5 mins. And yet I believe my lies…every time.