I’m currently teaching Self as Subject, a painting seminar that I designed last spring. It’s a seminar that explores ways in which art has been/can be a vehicle for exploring identity. A few weeks ago I did a quick demo in which I focused on the range of texture and detail that can be accomplished with a palette knife. I had, in an earlier thread (it’s an online class), been sharing about the ways in which art sometimes tells the truth beyond our intentions. I was aiming to inspire students to look more carefully and intentionally but also to be aware that art practice brings stuff up and can be intimidating, particularly for beginners. I finished my demo piece, and when I looked at it, I realized that I had painted myself behind a stack of books with no arms. That’s the only good thing about the piece, actually. I’d had a day where I felt at the mercy of my circumstances. I set out to make a painting about form and technique, and of course, I made a piece about feeling stuck. Amazing.