Transcript of a conversation that occurred around 1:30 AM, in bed, last night.

Me: “Saaaaay, James?”
Him: “Gnnrf?”
Me: “Would you think it was weird if I got up to fix a painting right now?”
(long pause)
Him: “That might be considered obsessive, yes.”

So I waiting until morning to muck about with my porcupine more…and I’ve gotten to the point where I no longer really know if it’s better now or not. I gutted the back, replaced it with mostly empty space radiating around the bird, and expanded the quill fan on her head a bit. (Ironically, I know all kinds of ways that I might be able to fix it with color, but I shall not be swayed! Must–master–monochrome!) Critique and commentary and suggestions gladly accepted–this might actually be worse, compositionally, than the last version, but I’m at the I-can’t-tell stage, so other people’s advice is welcome. It may also not actually be salvageable in it’s current incarnation–if not, que sera, sera. You win some, you lose some, and better to lose a painting than the shreds of my sanity expended overworking it more!

Poor, Overworked Porcupine

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