A painter posted a landscape on Insta, said it was from some years before and since then he was concerned he’d forgotten how to paint landscape.

The three-year-old painting hits strong for me. It’s from an unusual viewpoint. I see no method to it. The strokes merge an intent to communicate an image with a straightforward dialog between hand and paint. The coloring is ad hoc, not sharply paletted at all.

In short, the painting speaks to me on a number of levels. I’d have been proud to have painted it.

Proving for me yet again that method is for high craft. Courtly portraiture, the imitation of earlier centuries. Fine cabinetry.

Art-making transcends method. Art-making has the capacity to collapse all human process into a single being.

A painter open to what art-making is will live through cycles of birth and death, savagery and gentleness, enlightenment and pitch-blindness. Deep sorrow, intense joy.

Discovery and forgetting.