Tentatively titled Rust
, this one is 42"x42," oil on board.
Here is something I'm thinking about.
On Monday night, insomnia plagued me for most of the night, and finally at 4;30 a.m. I was seized with the idea of painting. (Am I obsessed, or possessed, or what?) So I left the warm bed, made coffee, bundled up (it was below zero) and headed across the back yard to my studio. The scene around me was really beautiful. A full moon, low in the sky, washed the fields with luminous white. The twigs on the lilac bush by my studio steps were each dusted with new snow, and there was a crispness and clarity to the atmosphere unique to the time of day and the deep winter surroundings.
After starting a fire in the wood stove, I worked steadily until about 8:30 a.m., all that time aware of the sky growing lighter--which is, of course, the opposite of my usual experience of gradually losing the natural light. There was something magic about working in those hours, a feeling of expansiveness and possibility. When my lack of sleep finally hit, I went back to the house and slept until noon, but continued to feel creatively energized for the rest of the day, and I was amazed at what I accomplished.
I can't imagine keeping those hours very often--I really do NOT consider myself a morning person! But it was an interesting experience. I used to occasionally go to my studio very early when I was in grad school, with similar good results, but I haven't thought of doing it for a long time.
Years ago, I read someplace that people are potentially very creative and focused in the pre-dawn hours...maybe I'll try this once in awhile, at least when I can't sleep anyway.