My husband recently asked if I'd do a painting that portrayed relief. So I started laying down the underpainting and felt little by little the anxiety feed my mind, wondering "what will it be? How will it be? How do I-- how? How? How?" And after a frustratingly long time (which isn't quite long at all) the click comes and I just start throwing color down with little finess and no pure idea of what the outcome will be.
The beginning, full of uncertainty.
The middle, full of anguish for it not quite being.
The end when I look at my art and I see myself.