I wrote to myself earlier about what I should do. What would my next painting be? Should I finish an old one? Should I continue the one I started before I left for the Philippines? Should I…

What?

I’m not sure. All I know if that I have to buy some expensive solvents if I want to be fair to progress. I need to buy some artists tape. Mostly, all I know is that, for the first time since I started taking painting seriously, it is the first time I felt afraid to paint something uncomfortable or painful. I don’t know what this says about me as an artist, as a person, or in general.

I have been inconsistent these last few days. I have the best days. I have lots of thoughts. I have lots of sad feelings, too. Then, I am really excited! Yes, really excited and optimistic! This inconsistency frightens me. The drastic changes in a couple of hours is surprising, yet, utterly honest. Yet, I feel as though it would caress, violate, and stab a new painting quite powerfully and also so tenderly. 

But what would I paint? I thought I’d give it until tomorrow after I get back from Soho and a job trial training to decide. To commit a crime against a blank canvas. To get some damn artist tape for the edges, which are never clean enough when the tape comes off anyway.

I’m afraid and I don’t know what that will do to my painting. But, on another note, I have reading a book on Edgar Degas that I bought in Seattle. Oh, Edgar, you sure had talent, I’ll give you that.