When I first set out to paint a sizable expressionist abstract piece, I had planned to work instinctively. Most artists know that there should be a modicum of a vision. Otherwise a primate could paint (yes, I know they do). As I choose my palette, I did make some hard decisions. It should have some depth. It should have some lights, some very lights. And then, it should be textured because that's who I am. Textured. Yes, rough parts, soft parts, the dark side, and the exquisite bright. My life in paint mirrors reality.
Off I go, brushes in hand, fabric, water, paint, an apple beside me, because I think I will eat something at some point. But I never do. Hours go by, I am so covered in medium to make the papers and the fabric adhere to the canvas. My back is hurting as usual. But I never stop to breathe. And once done, I stand back and glow with pride because I covered a large canvas and it is awesome. For me, anyway. When I show it to my daughter's boyfriend, he asks, "what inspired you?". And the question makes me laugh. (Artists will get this).
So the only question left is the name of the piece. I realize that only the viewer can make that decision. I have made too many decisions creating it. Now it is your call. I call it "Untitled".