Paint will move whatever way it is pushed or guided. It responds immediately to the slightest pressure. Each mark is an exact effect of its cause. Mistakes arise when what the paint does is exactly what it should be doing but it is also exactly not what one envisioned. Oil paint is tender and generous but also punishes immediately and utterly refuses to do most of what I hope it will. It's a way of being left with mistake after mistake, always hoping that something will emerge from it all, something which in some way mirrors the elegant beauty of this world. But it is the paint itself, the color itself which is beautiful and capable of so much.