Make a peace offering.

I've been working on a painting for 5 months. Actually, let me clarify. I started a painting 5 months ago and have devoted about 12 hours to it so far. Not much, considering my normal pace of about 25-36 hours to finish a piece. I can usually only put in about 2 to 3 hours before the paper is too "wet" to work with without an overnight drying period. Optimally, I have maybe 2 to 6 hours per week that I can devote to painting. Work, kids, social engagements, boyfriend, bus, eating, and sleeping take up the rest. Realistically, I get in 2 hours every other week. So "finishing a painting" is always out there on the calendar. It's always just over the horizon.

As I'm just wrapping up the second hour last night, just pouncing the last indigo line into muted submission with the rest of the shadows, Rabbit says, "What if I just started putting out three of these a week." He was referring to the grey/pink/yellow/red canvas he'd just frosted in the 15 minutes he was waiting for me. "What if I started selling them for three hundred dollars a pop. That would drive you crazy, wouldn't it?" He laughed. He laughed, because Rabbit knows how I feel about "splatter art". I feel about it the same way I feel about fast food and comedies. They're not good, not important, not worthy of my attention or money, but they have a necessary purpose. They're quick, easy to digest, and they fill a void that clamors to be filled...not fulfilled, just filled.

Walk into almost any office building in the city and see the acre of wall space that splatter art fills. And thank God for it, really. When the 23 year-old at the management company was tasked with purchasing original "art" for the foyer walls, thank God that she needed look no further than her roommate's struggling friend who, for $1000 and a 12 pack, could create 500 square feet of spatula'd, spattered, squirted, splattered craftiness that could pass for art. Something no one could argue about, no one could disagree with, no one could be offended by or challenged by. Something that would be blandly perfect for foyer walls in an office building. Thank God, because otherwise, she might need to justify her choice. She might need to explain it to an irked boss, or a parent with an art-sensitive child, or a person with an eye for religious symbolism. God bless splatter art and its uncanny ability to fill any wall and match almost any couch.

I don't eat fast food, unless I'm drunk or starving and have 15 minutes between appointments. That is exactly my relationship with splatter art. I avoid it whenever possible. So Rabbit's comment was meant to poke me in a sensitive place. He knows this about me. But Rabbit is not an "artist". Well, he is, but not with paints. He enjoys getting his splatter on though. I know how good it feels to put paint on canvas, even if it's just a squish and a splat. It feels awesome. It feels like creation. It feels like release. Would it drive me crazy if Rabbit sold a splatter painting for $300? That would be fun, wouldn't it? Funny. You're god damned right I'd be crazy. I'd be so crazy, I'd probably reconsider why spend 5 months on a painting before deciding that I have to stop. How would he feel if I just dropped 10 pounds in a month and got sexy, muscley arms from "just working out on my lunch hour"? Would that be funny?......I thought not.