Dead and dying flowers

Painting today. One of those times when the doing is a kind of aimless search. Like singing out of tune – you know you are doing it but each attempt at correction produces another discord. I think I just wanted to mix paint. Blobs of soft pigment mixed with glaze medium. There is a decadence about it. A submission to purposeless physicality. For a while the mixing and spreading is enjoyable. Then only repetitive. It seems that periods of such activity are integral to the process, a flushing of the system, to be endured until purpose returns. A time of doubt. And today I noticed a greying of the light that leads into autumn and then winter. I dislike the short grey winter days. Rain and wind and contrast are fine, but still greyness is debilitating. Odd that I am using a lot of grey. It’s the contrast that must be rediscovered. Not necessarily violent contrast, but purposeful difference. Chord as well as discord. I thought that I would chart the path ( I nearly wrote ‘progress’) of this day’s work in the hope that its aimlessness would be overcome. I shall catch it unawares tomorrow, maybe surprise it into reaction.