Finished, finally. Finishing a painting always feels like the end of final exams. I want to throw my brushes in the air and go outside; read a book; see people; just have fun and relax and forget the effort.

The final struggle was with the right hand. I thought about leaving it vague, but decided it would look unfinished. So I spent a day putting it down, wiping it out, and putting it down again as I tried to get just the right attitude and expression. I ended the day almost exactly where I began but it was worth it: I had worked through every possibility. When I woke up the next morning I knew just what to do and I painted fluidly, easily, and with confidence and finished it. Yippee.