When is a painting finished? 

Sometimes it's a matter of style. Hyper-realistic paintings are done when there is no canvas showing and all the details are complete. My style isn't that. "Painterly" paintings are supposed to have lost edges, where you can't tell where the outline of this or that figure stops and the next figure starts, and sometimes there are big chunks of canvas that have only a charcoal drawing on it, or "background" paint. This style is much admired but I'm not particularly a fan.

As an artist with no formal training but with a tendency to want to follow the rules, I often thrash around, especially at the beginning. What are the rules, anyway? "There are no rules" is clearly false. There are technical rules, such as how to clean brushes or how to keep paint from cracking off the canvas or how to mix paint without it getting muddy. There are thematic rules, such as the one my daughter encountered in art school, "Never paint anything that looks like a Hallmark Card," or the one that a shocked artist friend blurted out at me, "No, Julia, you can't paint your dreams. Never that, no." As a beginner I tried to keep everything in mind, as a more practiced artist, I no longer much think about what I'm supposed to go for.

In the search for my own style, I have gone to museums and galleries in various countries. I've noticed that paintings in galleries are often super-polished. The technical mastery of paint and varnish is daunting and seldom appealing. Pieces in museum collections, on the other hand, sometimes have looser styles, where bits of canvas show, and details are somewhat fudged. Too much technical skill, in our era, gives the flavor of computer generated art, which isn't an area where I can compete.

What I ended up doing was to paint a lot and discover my style through a process of uncovering and revelation, not through planning or even taste. My style is not particularly what I would have dialed up if I had had the chance to sit in Heaven and form myself as an artist. Which is pretty strange, but there you are.

And so this leads up to my question, how can I tell when I'm done with a painting? This one, for example, is clearly unfinished. What am I seeing that tells me that? The background is too saturated compared with the face. The face needs a touch-up, more contrast. His shirt has to decide what color it is, the bird has to grip wrinkles on his shirt. ... or maybe not? Maybe all that is part of what makes it work ...

For some things, like my online teaching job, I don't procrastinate. I make a list, mental or on a spreadsheet, of what needs doing, and then I do it. I keep working until I finish, with rare exceptions.

For other things, like housekeeping or gardening, I fold them into the ordinary course of living. When I go to the garden to empty the compost bucket, or to pick vegetables for my next meal, I weed a bit. When I get hungry, I cook, cleaning as I go. It's a natural, organic way of getting stuff done and I hardly notice it.

For some things, though; creative things, I procrastinate. This has been a life issue. As early as I can remember, I've always done my duty first. I seem to be able to expand my idea of "duty" kind of infinitely, and I've come to see that it's a way of procrastinating. If I have things I must do, like pay bills or work for pay, then I can fill my life with busyness, and nobody, least of all myself, can fault me for that. On the other hand, if I venture into the world of creativity, then what if what I end up doing isn't something awesomely great? Failure! Grief and woe!

This sort of toxic thinking is easiest to fall into when I'm tired. Since I get the "must do" things out of the way in the early part of the day, then I end up trying to paint when I'm tired. I may try to change this in the next few weeks. We'll see if a lifetime of habit can be overturned.

Today, I managed to paint a bit, which is good. When I procrastinated ... get this ... it was because I was listening to Cal Newport's audio book, "Deep Work, Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World." How hilarious is that????

First, a tea party.

Next, mutton stew with bread and wine.

And finally, Boggle. The cubes were made with our Boggle note cards. Each cube takes twelve of the cards, six per side plus six more to lock them. That makes 72 cards. So far. Astri, since English is not her first language, always wins.

I got a roll of canvas and some acrylic paint in Oslo! My work officially ended on Thursday and the sudden surge of energy was a bit of a relief. I never know if my lack of painting energy is due to the draining effects of work, or if there's something larger and more sinister at play. Watching Mom die of Alzheimer's was sobering to say the least! 

Then I did three underpaintings in quick succession (thanks for your living room table, Astri!). It's possible I'll go over them again in oils, or possibly not. One of them seems fairly complete. The other two might end up in the trash. Anyway, it was super-fun to be working again.

​And tomorrow I fly home. Wherever that is. Things are in transition.

 Here are two doorways. One door is good, but two doors are much better.​

Her er to dører. En dør er bra, men to dører er mye bedre.

This is the workspace of the house guest. It would be better if there were freshly washed silk on the table, but the house guest does not understand proper behavior.​

Dette er arbeidsplassen til husgjesten. Det ville vært bedre hvis det var nyvasket silke på bordet, men husgjesten har ikke kjennskap til korrekt oppførsel.

 This is where the house guest has been stored. The bed is behind an Afghani curtain, with clean sheets and a down comfortor. Unfortunately, it does not smell right, and so the cats are unable to sleep on the bed any more. They prefer to sleep on the face of the servant.​

Det er her husgjesten har blitt lagret. Sengen er bak et afghansk gardin, med rent sengetøy og en dundyne. Dessverre lukter det ikke riktig, så kattene er ikke i stand til å sove i sengen lenger. De foretrekker å sove på ansiktet til tjeneren.