I’ve been in the studio this week, resurrecting some old paintings, one of which I've painted over a couple times. It began as a self portrait amid a collage desert landscape, then transformed to a geographical map of sorts. This week it’s been resurrected with new life, more movement and expressive brushstrokes and color. The textures showing through of the layers of collage, the background seeping forward, and brighter more blended colors with soft edges emerging. After all the years and layers of trials, it finally feels complete.

But when do we know a painting is complete? Sometimes it’s a definitive line that completes an image, or it’s a feeling. Usually for me, it’s a feeling and the aesthetic that I see when I look at the color flow, the charcoal or pencil lines coming through, the overall movement. As for this one, it’s found a new life and home.