Other than its relationship to a drawing of a Very Famous Shoe Designer's covered button shoe, the real story of
100 Buttons is the way in which it seemed to take forever to paint. Tracing the U.S. and French coins, painting the
Winsor Newton Davy's Gray outlines of the coins and of the centers of each button (two circles for each button), layering in the button colors, painting in the "threads" two or three times, painting an outline for each button and center, and then stopping to count. When I was certain that I was half finished, I found that I had painted far more than 100 buttons, and that I certainly was nowhere close to being finished.
The story of the formerly nameless traveling nano is grows more like
100 Buttons every day. I drew the nameless shapes, painted both the shapes and the little links that connected them with
Winsor Newton Davy's Gray, painted the colors into the shapes, outlined each of the shapes with
Daniel Smith Deep Sap Green, and painted colors into the links between each of the shapes. For the two days that I worked on the little links, I thought that they would perform their linking function without an outline between the between each shape. Although I haven't (and won't) count each shape, it is clear to me that each of the little links needs an outline. And yes, there are far more little links than there are "big" shapes.
This is quintessential Painstaking Exuberance. Gotta outline. Gotta get to work.
Huzzah! While on a four-day-three-school Pass the Baton Alternative Careers trip to Florida, I realized that the true inspiration for these paintings are Philodendron leaves. Small ones. Large ones. Really large ones like the ones in the Conservatory at San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. Those are worth the trip. I was speechless and confused when I first saw five-and-seven-foot leaves, but a helpful Conservatory horticulturist explained that the plant in my living room would look like this if it were to live for 100 years in a greenhouse or a jungle. 
