When is it finished?

I have a painting – a special commission – and I’m very, very keen that the recipients love it. That is always the case, of course, but there is even more of an edge of nervousness this time.

I thought it was finished. I was happy and I thought I liked it but, on this last possible day of painting before varnishing and packing, there is something that is niggling at me. I have realised it is fear that the new owners may be a little disappointed.

And so, at the eleventh hour, I have decided I need to make some relatively drastic additions. There is the risk it may not work out; it may cheapen the piece or make it look amateurish. On the other hand, it could lift it from good to great. It could lift me from quiet internal apology to pride.

Now the alterations are in my head they have to be put into action. It’s like that thing you can’t unsee. I have to take the leap.

So often in life those last-minute, gut feelings lead to a much better outcome. Those sudden urges to alter direction, those uncomfortable feelings of not being quite sure, that unexpected desire to make a move can draw us towards a gentle (or explosive) realisation that we need to make a change, a tweak, a move.

There’s always a risk, of course. I guess we have to wear that. But the upside can be worth it. Our moments may be enriched, our days fuller, my painting markedly more satisfying. So, I’m taking the plunge.

Until later, with fingers crossed,


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