Yes, I’m sure most of you artists are familiar with this book, and talking about art failures or creative blocks by bringing Pressfield’s title up would be nothing but a sad cliché. That’s fine. I won’t fight it. I’m not a painter, and I’m not trying to be a writer either. Cliché it is…

Here’s what happened: I painted an ugly paint. Perhaps none of my work so far would necessarily be considered “pretty”, but I’ve always felt good about each and every one of them, well, except for this one.

The last time I’ve touched my brushes: March 10th – exactly two weeks ago, I started painting this thing I kind of envisioned, and oh boy…

I contemplated throwing this painting away many times. I didn’t. I suppose there are a couple drops of sadistic emotions holding me back. Perhaps I’ve been trying to convince myself that I’m not good at all at painting… I have no clue. But whatever it is, I’m putting an end to it, and I’m doing it right now, as I share my failure with the world (*drama queen*).

That’s all. I’m not looking for comfort or positivity. I’m over this painting. I’m putting it away and take it for what it is: just a piece of paper and some drops of paint.

I will be back soon.

G.