When the squiggles speak

I probably should have posted this yesterday, since it's the one I was working on and writing about. But basically, at that point, it was just the color that you see (plus the big white swoop and the navy blue dots) but without the scribbles.

Boring, right?

So after writing yesterday -- and annoyed with myself for holding back -- I grabbed a marker and a pencil and began to scribble. Because scribbling is one of those things I admire in other people's paintings but can't quite seem to do in my own. Fortunately I had decided to write this one off and paint over what I'd done so far, which serves as an excellent excuse to mess it up without fear.

... and here you see what happened when I let loose. Now I get that we all see different things when we look at abstract paintings, but what I saw here when I was done was that the top of the big squiggle there was something that looked like Trump's signature haircut. Going from that, there seems to be an eye and a sort of Hitler-like mustache, and then these arms, cradling something... or I suppose they could be boobs...

Actually the left hand one looks a bit like a big thumb (and now I hear the Rolling Stones classic, "Under my Thumb..."

Maybe this is why I don't scribble? Because I'm afraid my thoughts will get exposed?

At any rate -- I kinda like it. I suspect I'll still paint over it eventually, but for now it seems to capture something of what's going on right now, so I'll quit and tackle something else. Probably one of the squirty pieces I did last week in an attempt to use up a box-full of tiny paint tubes I won in a painting contest my second year out...

PS: One of the really great things about choosing to do art in the time of Cholera? You end up washing your hands a LOT. Always a good choice, but especially now.

Learnings: My squiggles have curves.