At this point, the Impossible Painting is getting to a place where there is so much paint piled on top of paint that the whole thing is in danger of falling off in great chunks, like an Anselm Kieffer.
This doesn't bother me at all, at the moment. I was thinking of doing a painting like this already; it just saves me the bother of having to get a new canvas.
Danny is coming for a studio visit this afternoon, which is something to look forward to. My ideal working conditions have always involved knowing that someone on the other side of the wall is working their butt off, just like me; every two or four hours we can break off, have an intense discussion about a random topic, then go back to work. This is why I didn't seem to need much sleep in art school. I don't isolate well.
However, solitude has its benefits when you are seized with a sudden need to play an obnoxious piece of music on a repeat loop for a couple of hours. It's a good thing that my downstairs neighbors are 9-to-5-ers, or I'd undoubtedly be alienating them with my sudden obsession with the one punk rock album I've acquired since 1995. I dunno, something about it just pressed my buzzer. Also I've broken out PJ Harvey's 'To Bring You My Love' for the first time since 2001. Pounding bass, crashing drums, and bad-ass women screaming things like "They love you, they want you, WHEN YOU FALL DOWN" feel oddly grounding and energizing just now.