One obstacle to floral work is they keep dying. Thus one must continually replenish one’s subject matter. This gets expensive or dangerous; the only source of free flowers is the neighbors’ gardens.
Looking at this finished work I’ve become more aware of the dangers of painting and drinking. I’m certain this started life as a rose. What happened here? I can think of two plausible explanations: 1) My ratio of drinking to painting was too high; 2) When the neighbors started screaming and throwing rocks at me for borrowing their flowers, I cut the wrong variety in my haste to escape.
My neighbors have informed me they are aware of my foraging in their flower beds. I think to be safe I will change to painting subjects like almonds in a milk glass.