Every time I go into the mountains I feel suddenly like the person I want to be, and all the worries about making things take a kind of second place-- a place of response which enhances them because they are moved by something else to action, and aren't endlessly trying to justify themselves. I do still think about many different ways of trying to bring them to fruition and what that really means for me. Painting has been precluded recently by efforts to really dig into one of those ways I've always been interested with but never had the time till now to really prioritize: 3D modeling for use in game or 'simulation' (dreams?) environments.
I've been focusing on learning this way of making things (vertices, faces, edges, pixels instead of pigment, binder, oil, canvas) for several intensive months now, but when I'm in the mountains I still just want to paint. Everything is just as fascinating in three dimensions as it always has been though, and modeling really does change the way you look at things at least from time to time. The edges of glacier, the 'textures' of things and the formal arrangements that I can handily reference in two dimensions sort of spread out and break down in three. It is hard to break from what I have spent years cultivating and exploring, and to be the only one responsible for a stunted artwork practice. Of course I am learning a lot, a lot that even can be taken back into painting and that can take advantage of painting, but that's not the same as painting. These moments when I get to go back and actually live why I am doing what I am doing in the mountains are like gobs of jelly for the plain bread of living in the city. They revitalize everything but ring with a sort of warning call 'You have not painted.'
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