The thin paint of the first thoughts gives way to the thick paint of further ruminations. It’s like a different landscape. The first one, more airy and light and chaotic. The next stage is more vegetive. Green, everywhere green. I try to find as many greens as I can.
And vicariously I’m in these trees with their millions of leaves. The clouds above, so fuffy. The forms of clouds, their edges that dissolve. I’m thinking I’ll go at this painting one more time. Everything’s thick right now. Got to let it dry. But last night I dreamt of green trees all night until midnight, dreaming with the paint brush in hand and the sweet smell of linseed oil wafting.
It’s first manifestation was this below — when it was positively ethereal.