It is curious how the passage of time, and a slight shift of one’s angle of vision, can make such a difference to the way in which things appear to us. A couple of days ago I remarked that I was rather dissatisfied with one of my pictures because it seemed rather flat. The emotional charge I had hoped it would carry was somehow absent. For some reason this morning I looked at it again, and I don’t know whether it was the different angle from which I saw it, of a difference of mood, or of light, or whatever, but it seemed a very different image.
The picture depicts three women, and they are intended to be the point and substance of the picture. They are carrying burdens up a mountain path. Suddenly I realised that the emotional work of the picture is actually being done by the rocks along the edge of the path. Their succession of jolting angles, combined with a kind of rythm, adds a good deal to the tone of the picture, and acts as a kind of commentary on the figures.
I’ve often found that it pays to set work aside for a time when it seems to be not entirely satisfactory, instead of beating oneself up about it, and trying to force a conclusion. This experience certainly makes that point.