I’m one of those people who believe that on January 1st of every year, anything is possible, you can start over again, and the future is bright.  Last year didn’t really go the way I, or anyone planned, but I did have a lot of opportunity to create art.

I always create a lofty list of resolutions, but I try not to be disappointed if I fail at them. I think there’s a lot to be said for the attempt anyway.

For example, I pledged to devote myself to a studious sketchbook practice in the new year, but so far I haven’t made so much as an offhand scribble.  It doesn’t mean I never will, or that I’ve failed, it just means the time hasn’t been right.

Last year I told myself I would devote myself to creating an arbitrary number of oil paintings, of various sizes (mostly small, 5×7) and mostly limited subjects, in order to ramp up my confidence with the medium and the process.  The number I officially chose was 20, but internally I said I would strive for 30.  I ended up with 26.  I would say between 15 and 20 of those are ones I actually still like at this point, the others I can look at critically and think about what was learned. 

Daily painters inspire me, even though at this time in my life finding the time for that sort of devotion seems impossible. I also find right now my best work comes from taking a little more time to work things through.  But, nevertheless, when I paint often and have multiple irons in the fire to keep rolling along, I create more consistent work.  Of course as usual, towards the latter part of the year I lost steam and rarely put paint to canvas.  I finished off the last painting on my easel in 2020, but I wonder if I’ll be able to regain that great momentum I had midyear.  Am I hiding from my easel now? Maybe?