A painting is created in a timespan of hours, days or months; sometimes years. Usually, especially in the case of creative saga, there comes a moment when you have to shake the painting, to make its soul fall in the contours. It is a final spurt of passion; the kiss of life (or death) totally fatal for better or for worse. The shaking is not necessarily a passionate gesture; very often it is more an ultimate focus, the correct solution, a line that connects everything. Think of the space making lines/ geometrical forms in Francis Bacon‘s paintings, or the coloured contours of the German expressionists, or a final lazure that you let drip over a dear part; the closing bravery of wiping out totally something that you had hoped to keep. That’s it then; the painting is finished.
A painting starts and ends with an action of bravery.
The painter ought to keep the painting awake; that has nothing to do with being nice nor satisfied.