I could see and feel the progress made during the last six years, since I started painting. The dynamic of brush strokes increased in energy, strokes became stronger, bolder, revealing its spontaneous origin. Yet, overall, I felt that general impression was lagging behind partial, individual merits.
The mood conveyed by the the collection of paintings lacked the unity to be convincing, the message was weak, dispersed, uncertain, undefined. Jumping from one idea to other made all paintings to look as a collection of exercises, which they really are. Are they too small? Are they finished too fast? Shell I engage in a bigger project to dig deeper?
Technically I felt frustrated. My narrow working space, limited my hand movement and made me reluctantly accept replacing long arm powered lines with smaller weaker strokes, a strategy applied each time I wanted to hide difficulties of producing big, powerful strokes. Not being satisfied with the result, I felt that my guiding light at the end of the tunnel was still far away and walking toward it was slow and uncertain. I was looking for something to happen, to put me on a faster track forward, to revive my passion.
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