I’m learning a valuable lesson: that it’s motion nonetheless even when it’s slow motion. My appointments with the easel have been less routine lately because I’ve had a bunch of rather mundane chores to do, but I nibble away at various paintings and marvel that even nibbles produce ideas. The pictures happen more slowly, but they still happen.
Sometimes a lot of change gets compressed into a small space. I don’t know what the effects of working slowly really are, how the painting done in captured moments will differ from pictures that I could do with sustained interest, but I am painting. I am thinking about colors and lines. I gaze at forests in imagination and at the atmosphere.
And who can say what influence my chores have, also, upon the pictorial thoughts? Perhaps adding a beneficent influence from wider Life?
The point is that you just keep patiently working. And stuff — good stuff — will happen.