Later on Saturday and through Sunday, I tried moving on from blue, attempting to paint a more upbeat piece—red and yellow roses someone had brought to cheer me up. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t do it, kept feeling my rhythm interrupted. There was more to emerge in the blue series and I needed to keep on going. Sunday p.m. I was too tired to paint, but the incubation didn’t stop. I had at least two more works in me that would be able to surface in the time-frame I could reasonably give myself. The first, Open Wounds and/or Light at End of Tunnel popped out Monday p.m. This was not what or how I’d planned to paint, but it was what wanted to be there.

Things will never be the same, and sometimes there’s no fight left. I am no Jackson Pollock, but splashing paint onto wood felt right at this time. Red for blood. Pale blue between the red. Wood showing through creating interesting effect (and affect) between the drips. I would have liked to go on, but I realized, quite quickly, that it was time to stop. Points had been made and were very clear, as well as open to interpretation. The title came later on reflection. Like Dove and Ghost, another ambiguous piece.