A Genoa Art Project Pauses for One More Flower Drawing

The Genoa series is still waiting for its third image. The artist had planned to return to the project, a sprawling effort to make roughly a hundred hand-painted digital pictures of the city. Instead, a flower drawing has taken over the day.

There’s no trip back to Genoa behind the title’s teasing question. Travel money has run out for now, except for possible apartment hunting, so the city is returning through pictures rather than a visit. That shift gives the work a particular kind of momentum: the place is both a subject to revisit and a project that can sit patiently while another idea takes the artist’s attention.

A detour from the plan

The next Genoa picture would be number three. The artist sounds ready to pick up the sequence, then admits that a new flower image was opened and work began on it instead. The confession is playful, but the change of course is plain. Today’s effort belongs to the flower; the Genoa picture remains anticipated rather than completed.

There’s no grand explanation for the detour. The artist calls it an “accidentally on purpose” decision, then promises that the flower will be a one-day exception. The promise dissolves almost as soon as it’s made: tomorrow’s plan, they say, is anyone’s guess. That uncertainty becomes part of the account, making the studio’s changing direction as visible as the pictures themselves.

For a project conceived on the scale of about a hundred images, a pause after the second picture is hardly a verdict on its future. It simply leaves the series at an early stage. The artist has a clear next marker in mind, but not a timetable or a firm routine for reaching it. In this update, creative work looks less like a straight line from one planned image to the next and more like a sequence of choices made at the drawing table.

Genoa, recalled through pictures

The artist’s brief aside about returning to Genoa turns on the city’s Columbus statue, described as standing outside the train station. They speculate, with an explicit caveat, that the monument might draw disapproval around the period they call “Colombus Day” or “Indiginous Peoples’ Day.” Then they make clear that they have no knowledge that this is actually the case. The statue, they add, appears untouched.

That anecdote is less a report about local opinion than a comic detour in a post about making art. The writer marks the speculation as invented, so it shouldn’t be read as information about residents or the monument’s reception. The detail that matters to the work at hand is that Genoa remains present in the artist’s imagination, even while the current drawing is of a flower.

The post’s accompanying image is part of that visual record, carried through from the original with its link intact. It sits beside the account of a project whose progress is measured in individual pictures, not in a promised schedule. The artist’s description suggests a substantial undertaking, but gives no further details about its eventual format, display, or completion date.

What comes next is open

For readers following the series, the update offers a small but useful status report: picture three has not arrived, and a flower has claimed the current session. The artist’s joking insistence that this will be the only flower drawing today keeps the tone light, while the immediate admission of uncertainty prevents the promise from sounding like a definite plan.

That looseness is the point. The artist describes themself as a “loose cannon” these days, a self-mocking label for a practice that can wander from a large city project to a fresh botanical image without warning. The shift doesn’t erase the intention to continue the Genoa pictures; it shows that intention sharing space with whatever else catches the artist’s eye.

For now, the next concrete step remains easy to name and impossible to schedule: return to the Genoa series and make its third picture. Whether that happens tomorrow or after another detour is still unsettled. The project’s progress will depend on what the artist chooses to open next.