Decisions, decisions.

I'm lying there in bed last night, completely frustrated over my attempt at painting. I reworked that damn butterfly from Hell seven times and STILL didn't like it one iota. Not one. Not even half an iota. Niet. Pas. Nicht. Non. Não. I don't even like it multilingually. And I stewed, just as I said I would. Stewed into the wee hours of the night.

Eventually, comprehension set it. I hate the shape of that damn butterfly. Wings are wrong. It's too flat. It's just wrong all over. Wrong. And then the question of what to do about it began rolling around in my head.

Damn butterfly.

--- Ah Ha! ---

Paint over the little bastard. I don't even care if it does screw up the background, which I was actually starting to like. It's acrylic. Get over it and paint over it. Adios old butterfly. Start fresh. A better butterfly. New and improved butterfly. Painter friendly butterfly. Nice butterfly.

So I did. Poof! A few swishes of the brush and bye-bye butterfly. I can't begin to describe the feeling of relief. No matter that so much effort disappeared in a matter of 2.3 minutes. It was good. It felt good.

Why does it take so long to figure this stuff out? Why do I keep working at something until I'm frazzled and cranky and hating every minute of the process? Why is it that I have such a hard time of recognizing a block and moving around it? I do this surprisingly often when I'm painting. It's as if I get stuck in trying to make something right (or work) and worry with it like a dog with a bone. Do other artists do that?

Anyway, I pilfered through my reference material, found a butterfly I like much better and have just finished drawing it onto the canvas a few minutes ago. On a roll now. At least, I was until I started thinking about coloration. Sheesh! Decision making time. There I am, feeling rather sassy and all geared up to sling some paint and Wham! I've got color issues.

I guess I should go sit and stew some more.

Namaste, y'all ...