I saw some encaustic paintings today by an artist who used loads of wax, and let the wax teeter precariously over the edges causing a very cool drippy effect. I had some practical concerns about shipping, packing, and moving such pieces but that does not come from the part of my brain that is an artist, but rather the part that hates to lose or break things. Normally I'm pretty Zen about paintings. I'll paint over one in a minute if I'm tired of looking at it. And encaustic paintings are very easily repaired if they do chip or crack. But losing my mom seems to have made me a little clingy, even to a disaster fantasy of a strangers art work being broken.
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