Mystical Corn Cob Pipe Denotes World Going Up in Smoke.

DETAIL: In progress, with 0 Filbert.

If you're a nerdy painter, you might have enjoyed the juicy thread on Facebook regarding tiny brushes that I started. I thought I was suddenly inept at handling a tiny brush and I wanted advice. My brush had 3 hairs, would barely pick up paint and would not smoothly transfer paint to my surface. I was concerned. I've been using tiny brushes (0's and liners) for a few years now. Some painters saw my cry for help and answered my request. That's what I love about painterpainters. They share. They reply. In the course of the replies, I learned of 2 products: Doak's goop and linseed oil soap. And of course I learned people's preference for mediums or sans mediums. The most accurate reply for my situation turned out to be "spring." I just needed a new brush. I didn't jump to this conclusion immediately because I had forgotten that the brush didn't start out with 3 hairs. I just knew it was the smallest brush I owned and that lately it was difficult to work with. I replace my tiny brushes often, but my other 0's were trashed, so there was nothing to compare it to. I purchased a new brush the next day. The local place doesn't carry my brand, so I'll have to order a some online, but the new one was like manna from heaven. vroom. I was so excited, I was tempted to paint minute details all through the night. I caught myself and switched brushes.

I'm reworking some recent linen paintings that weren't sitting well with me. Don't ask why a corncob pipe is any more important than a lamp in front of a fictitious outdoor scene; or a chair leg is more important than a painting I copied from a slide; or a chair in front of a fireplace with a brass candlestick is more important than something else, but 3 paintings took a bullet this week. I used to be embarrassed to claim this as my MO, but it's true- sometimes I paint something and it sits in the studio waiting and then one day soon thereafter, before anyone sees it, I decide not to associate with it, and continue painting on it and it turns into something else. Sometimes I regret this, but it's always a gamble either way.

I'm still happy and optimistic and light. I've been in the studio every day and nothing is annoying me. Unbelievable. It truly is the end of the world as we know it.