A new painting, three-quarters finished

I like to paint because I don't know what I'm doing, and I can have fun doing it poorly.

I don't handle the paint, the paint handles me.

Very often the paint acts like it can't wait to get out of the tube. There's a sweet opening and I load my little brush with paint and make a gesture or two.

Then everything comes to a standstill.

As previously stated, I don't really handle the paint. The paint can turn a corner long before I get there and disappear.

When I make a painting there's always this weird little moment when the painting stops being what it was and starts to become a whole new painting.

I know enough about painting now to know to stop here. That I may be on to something new the paint already knows.