The weather was absolutely perfect yesterday and I had planned the usual runaround until I discovered that the car was dead. That's really what prompted that large painting I talked about yesterday. Just toning twelve square feet took some contortions on the basement floor. Still feeling intimidated by the complex subject matter, I felt that the task of gridding the canvas and roughing in the proportions in chalk would be more than enough for a day. Funny, though -- it's like starting to pull on a loose thread. Before you know it, the whole sweater's in play. Or, as Sherlock would say," "The Game is On!!"
That was around 10 in the morning. Once I figured out how to manoeuvre it on the easel, one line led to another and I was in a full-blown oil grisaille before I knew it. By dinnertime there was no dinner but only a shirt with bits of burnt umber and white on it. And this.