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The piece finally done. It went through more changes than usual. It actually looked quite shadowy yesterday after the sun set. Even gloomy. I must have felt the political mood of the country. Darker than usual.
When I photographed the painting outside this morning it was much brighter. The colors had dried and lightened. Kind of lucky, in a way.
I had some realizations about the destiny of paintings throughout their long existence. I once feared that the pigments I used would not hold up. They might fade, flick off, crackle, and otherwise become altered.
But so what! Why must it always look like the day it was made? Let it undergo some changes. Show some signs of what it endured. Why is that so terrible? It may even improve the work.
Time affects everything in this world. I must stop worrying about the normal aging process. In art, and in life itself.