Destruction and creation, the eternal opposites, one ceasing to exist without the other. If you view making art as growing a culture, as you would in a laboratory, there are countless analogies. Maturation processes, introduction of stimuli, culling specimens... basically any manner of manipulation to to promote desired change, And when you're on a journey of discovery, there are no mistakes, simply surprises and happy accidents. The rest you paint over.
What is my point here? The last batch of paintings, Gaea Bellum, took considerably more time and effort than I had anticipated. That's not a bad thing. I've been cultivating (there it is) a new style for months, and this is the first major iteration in what will be a new muralism aesthetic for me in the future. And the chance to include a historical/cultural narrative with commentary on conflict and nature? Well, the goddamn thing practically paints itself.
The real trick was in the laborious layering of these elements on canvas. By constructing an isometric viewpoint for the helmets I can create symmetry, only to eliminate it with the layering of florals. Strangely enough, the 3D design of the helmet pieces was inspired directly by my recent work exploring symmetry and form with wire art. And it meant considerable more thought in placement and rendering for everything involved. For every bit of quality on the canvas, I painted over considerable other beauty whose only mistake was being in the wrong place or depth. I must be comfortable becoming a ruthless executioner of beauty. Only then can I create it. Put the mask back on, prep another slide, grow another art.