I'm really chuffed with a painting I've completed. Annoyingly so. I feel that it brings together a load of qualities, and just, well, works. I'm conscious however of feeling good about it; and I'm more worried that I'm happy with the work I'm producing - in many different styles true, but each seems to work in its genre, and has something of me it in - be that scrutiny, exuberance, or even absurdity.

Now I'll let you debate the quality of the stuff (but it's good... right?), what troubles me is the sense of feeling pride, and I also worry that I suffer from artistic amnesia. You what? By that I mean the sense that the latest work encapsulates the best of you, achieves the apex of your talent, voice, whatever; and through this gush of pride, of hope, of euphoria you forget any previous Eureka moments. You blot out successes and failures, disappointments and hubris, in order to invest energy in this present project. In other words the nagging sense that: yes I really like this, I am right aren't I?

Immediately that I'm happy with an artistic decision comes the wave of 'are you sure?' The insidious drop of water on my ice sculpture that etches itself through the confidence and joy of completing a work, and feeling satisfied. The result of this psychological glacier is that I feel the need to broadcast my feelings of satisfaction ad nauseum - you know, just to make sure.

This is coupled with the other problem; just because I'm happy with the work doesn't mean it will draw other people in, through the tractor beam of artistic purity, to my house so they can look and appreciate it. I mean it should, but alas it doesn't work that way, as I found out to my eternal disappointment as a child. So I have to show the work somewhere - online, on a wall, somewhere. Which means I can't shut up about it, I have to put it out there - a task for which modesty a d doubt did to get past the application process.

So here I am, selling, promoting or whoring - whatever you want to call it! But the thing is, I am pleased with the painting, it makes me laugh, and it is dramatic and well constructed and executed, and it makes me excited and scared to do more. So I feel good about me, which I need sometimes. Sorry, I guess you'll hear more from me after all.