I paint, therefore I am...a human canvas. God, I'm a mess.

I'm painting an egg.  Not painting on an egg, but painting a representation of an egg.

Oh, and it has legs.  Long, sexy, female legs, perched atop a pair of scanty, hot pink hooker heels.

My original intention was to make both elements of this piece, the legs and the egg, excruciatingly realistic looking, creating an odd juxtaposition forcing viewers outside of the zone of the familiar.

Yeah, this was great plan until two things happened.

one). I got sick of looking at all that beige/peachy/white and pale apricot.  I decided to incorporate some color when my frustration got the best of me and suggested that I paint a large red/orange stroke down the left leg of this ethereal and kinky creature, and so I did.

Now there is an irresistable assault of color winding up her leg, overtaking the pale blah-ness of what we see when we aren't really looking hard enough.

two.) I bought this wretched paint.  I can't blame the paint, I know.  Only the artist can be blamed if her work is anything but fantastic, yet I guess I must admit I was feeling lazy and didn't want to deal with the putrid result of that ucky yellow that was sort of like the oclor of a sick pea.

SO. Here's my egg, with one leg covered in color, the other in seductive black thigh-highs.  I was really thinking of turning the egg part into a sort of Easter egg, I guess you could call it, with the colors migrating from the leg up onto the meat of the thing, but I decided maybe no.

Maybe, if I leave the color only on the leg, it's waspy tentacles falling just short of the creature's "body," I could create a kind of uncomfortable dissonance for viewers.  Why stop at the leg? they might think. 

Maybe I can create a real conversation piece insead of just a tribute to the already-been-done, eh?

Who knows. There's still quite a lot of paint to be flung.