As the Tomato Turns...

I'm kind of glad the last week and a half is over, mainly because I am so tired of myself. Last Sunday, the owner of the gallery presenting the Tomato Art Fest emailed me a question: "Would you be willing to do more of those little paintings?" So I decided to see what I could do.

Apparently, not much. At least, not as much as I thought I should be able to if I could just get out of my own damn way.

Monday was great. I cut the boards, built supports and glued them all together. Gessoed. Cussed a bit when said gesso dried too fast and cracked. Still, I love this craftsman phase. Saws! Hammers! Industrial Strength Glue! What's not to love?

But by Wednesday, Captain Oblivious was in full command. I had it in my head to go back to some of last year's ideas. "I know! I could try to work out the snail! I love that idea! What about the cherry one that has a little critter embryo in it? That can easily be adopted as a tomato..."

This was one of those times where the good Captain just needed to be shot. I lost two days to the Captain before I realized Meg meant "more paintings like the one you turned in last week."

So Friday, it began. The Great Painting Frenzy. Tomatoes in various "poses." Painting in phases because the paint would just turn to mud otherwise. Sleeping, eating and feeding the cats as the paint dried. At one point, my back hurt so badly from sitting, I vowed I would never sit again when this was all over. I also got so tired of hearing Dave Shuffett because KET4 decided to run a weekend long Kentucky Life marathon and I just never got around to changing the channel. I ended up getting four tomatoes finished:






I've also noticed something...well, stupid about myself when I delivered the paintings yesterday. I have to keep a clamp on my mouth because I can just feel the urge to start babbling when I'm around Meg. She has nothing but great things to say about my work. She has even given me a standing offer to bring her more work to hang in the gallery.

...and that's the problem I have to get over. I'm not in school anymore. I'm not going to get constructive criticism here. I have to stand on my own two feet. The work is good or it's not. I have to fight the urge to just start babbling about what I can do to make it better next time. In my own head, I can always do ever so much better.

Secretly, I wonder when everyone is going to figure out I'm just not that up to par. Until then - or I can just get over myself - I'm going to keep plugging away anyway.