I am meditating on “glance” a painting I made over the weekend. The rectangle in it seems unintegrated, but it felt right at the time, and somehow still does. I am trying to figure out if this is stubborness on my part, or is something else going on? Or is this just a painting that’s meant to lead me other places? I sort of love “glance” despite all its problems. I am walking around humming the theme song to Close Encounters of The Third Kind–doo, doo ,doo, doo dooooooo. Why do I keep returning to the mountain and the rectangle?