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May 02, 2008 2 Comments
I painted a pepper yesterday, a small habanero. Actually, I painted four.

As the first fell into a gloomy haze of brown and orange, I stepped back, cracked my knuckles and, said to a visiting friend, "Ok. Warm up is over. Now I bring it!" As the second crashed and burned, I swore and stomped. When the paint isn't cooperating, I know better than to keep going. Or so I thought.

The hours were ticking by, my attempts to distract myself with work had failed, and I was back at it, working on the third. Tenacity? Obsessive compulsive disorder? A fear of being beaten by a belligerent little orange vegetable? I swore I would win this fight.

Sorry, Scott. That's no pepper. That's a collection of awkward paint smears. Those aren't highlights, glints of light off firm pepper flesh. Pigeons have been dive bombing a flourescent pumpkin.

Finally, stubbornly, my eyes aching, with the midnight show playing on the radio, I was working again. It may be tighter than I'd prefer, but, not bloodied and or bruised, I beat that little pepper.

Habanero, 6" x 5"

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r    May 02, 2008  at  8:58 am

Pissed off painter.  Rockin habanero, dood.

scott    May 02, 2008  at  2:40 pm

Rabia! Thank you. Nice to see you around these parts.






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