An awful night of poor sleep and stomach twitches led to a waking morning of extreme grogginess, a mild headache, and stomach discomfort.
In a clumsy daze, I started work on the Hudson glazing, and managed the sky. Today, the opposite of yesterday, everything about the painting seemed disastrous and bad, as I battled like a soldier marching through the thick mud of time, gazing though the viscous air, swimming with my friends the brushes as I cut through the jelly-like space between my mind and the outside world. For much of the first few hours, my teeth were gritted tightly to wrestle my viscera into some sort of alignment, all the time battling to make the painting work despite my wounded state.
The sky was darkened compared to the underpainting, and the sad storm near the tree darkened yet more as I'd planned, adding more intensity there. I touched a little on the Rachel Hudson portrait, to make the background more red, more pink to give this crucial element attention.
At 4pm, I still felt tired and pained, and decided to stop. The darker sky to the right, and the plain green plains remain.
My mind was also occupied with the Prometheus upgrade, which I'm eager and ready to start. Our trip to Morecambe will get in the way, but it's perhaps better that I start before we leave.
This evening, still somewhat dizzy; perhaps, I thought, due to coffee, a drink which often drops my blood pressure and makes me feel dizzy and extraordinarily weak. I found some spare picture glass, so cut the pane for the frame for 'You Know How It Is When You Remember A Friend'.
