Saturday, January 3, I was painting with my son Dennis near a boat landing on the Willamette River.  We made plans the  night before.  If the weather looked like rain we'd paint each others portraits indoors.  If it was not raining we'd venture out for some plein-air work.  It was not raining.  My "concept" for the painting was to record the essential elements of the scene so that an observer of the painting would at least get a feeling of having been there. I try to keep this thought while I work.  The morning air is cold.  But the painting goes well.  I take a break to stretch my legs and see how Dennis is doing.  We are both happy with our progress so far--values, placement of color, looseness of brush strokes, etc..  What a pleasure!  I'm aware of my enjoyment as I get back to work.  Eventually, though, I notice some of the things I liked in the beginning of the painting are gone.  The fresh, crisp, sketchiness I had going was being replaced with "exactness" that needed dismantling.  Like a guest who is having a great time might overstay their welcome, I was having a great time and staying too long at the easel.  One brush stroke is fun and two is double the fun.  Knowing when to call it a painting is as much a part of the creation process as knowing how and where to put paint.  "Over Painting" is an area I've been working at overcoming.  The love of the work tends to keep painters long past closing time.  Overstaying our welcome so-to -speak.