Why is it that all the 'small' jobs seem to take so long to do? In preparation for the pigeon's epic story to be told I have spent what seems like hours (and probably is) preparing sixteen small frames. Tenderly sanding and then painting white with a beautiful farrow and ball emulsion. Coat number three may happen tomorrow after an in between sanding. I do begin to wonder if I become slightly transfixed with an end feeling of possible perfection in appearance…..
It is not in fact the frame that is the important factor but rather the content of which I am working on. Maybe the obsessive rendering is the cathartic bit that makes the brain cogs work to produce the content?
