Keeping on...and letting go Part 1

I have a dark confession to make...I love painting.  I love the dollops of glistening colour on the palette, and the way it slides across the canvas. I love the weight of my favourite paintbrush in my hand, and then swirling it round in the jar, and watching the colour of the water change to rose, blue, purple and milk-white. I even love the smell of paint, brush cleaner, and varnish! Yes, I know that it's possible to create beautiful artwork digitally with the
latest computer gizmo thingy-but the thought of it leaves me cold.
The passion I feel for painting is as much about the sensuality of it, the physical quality of my engagement with paint, paper and canvas, as it is with  the end result. That's why I dislike painting on rigid canvas board - there's no 'bounce' in the surface; it feels resistant and unfriendly, somehow as if it doesn't want to play with me...so all my current paintings are on canvas stretched over wooden frames, which allow for a certain kind of movement-based conversation.
The trouble is, it's difficult to leave. The light starts fading early this time of year, so I turn on the overhead light in the studio, which has one of those handy blue 'daylight' bulbs which are supposed to mimic natural light (but don't) and I keep going. At some point I remember to make coffee or eat something....and I think I should really stop now...just ten more minutes ...then suddenly it's very late indeed,-why's the time gone so fast?...and I really must stop, just five more minutes......I put the still-wet painting to one side, and wash out the paint brushes and throw away the used water, and think, I'll just check on that little bit I wasn't happy with......
Just like lingering for one last embrace with your lover, painting has the power to call you back, and back again. I've sometimes overworked a piece, because I found it hard to leave it alone, but as Leonardo said 'art is never  finished, only abandoned', so I abandon it, until the next time I can get back into the studio                                                                                                                               And then the process of letting go of the painting begins, but that's the subject of the next post.