Following my meeting with Ingrid at 9.30 in the morning, I realised that I indeed had let my theory overtake my practice, and in the excitement of anti-capitalist literature, and as a consequence, I had left my practice in the dust, and through the haze had forgotten entirely what it looked like and what type of work I actually enjoyed making.
So after taking myself for a walk in the sun around the city to calm down, I tried to figure out what brought me the most joy, and that is painting. Large, messy, colourful painting. Fortunately, just before I swore off painting last crisis, I had one piece of canvas full gessoed up and ready to go, so I was able to get straight into it and make a work.
Thankfully the first painting worked out well and I actually liked it or else I would definitely still be head deep into a full tailspin. Then I put up a big canvas the size I used to make in second year before Covid threw a spanner in the works and forced me small again.
Long story short, I love painting again, and I think I’m pretty good at it. The painter’s ego is making a comeback.
becks ireland 