Yesterday I cleaned up the studio and took some finished works out onto the balcony. I brought them all back but got distracted and forgot about one of them and started up painting again.
About two hours later I remembered and opened the door to the balcony to go out..the wind blew into the studio and slammed the entrance-to-the-studio door closed with a big BANG! I went back in to see it and found that I was locked inside. That was when I noticed that I needed to use the bathroom. (of course) Note here that there is no other access back into the house from the balcony.. I checked all other doors and windows locked up tight.
I banged on the studio door to get help..no one came.I phoned the house-helper; no answer ...and phoned Leslie ...no one answered.(Oh right ... Leslie went to the store) Oh great.
After ten minutes of bathroom panic, I looked back over the balcony edge and noted that while I was banging around Leslie had come back so called her again. She came up and let me out. (no comment)I went to use the facilities.
Returning to the studio I took the complete door handle and all of the hardware off the entrance-to-the-studio door. There is still a door there, but it won't do that one to me anymore. I went out, got the remaining painting and brought it in and set it on the floor in the hallway just outside of the studio door, out of the way but facing out soI might look at it later.
And later I did. There was an accent stroke pretty much right in the middle but just off center enough to look very deliberate and adding a new kind of asymmetrical balance. I did not remember painting that. I approached. It was a kind of grey-black oval, very textured almost encaustic. I guess nature was making a critique of my work. I considered leaving it, but in the end scraped it off.
I went back into the studio, encouraged.
Maybe I have a story kinda like Ann Lemott's "Bird by bird"?