There are painters who I admire with a particularly terrible sort of envy. French artist Daniel Enkaoua is one such painter. 
Through smudged and broken brushwork, Enkaoua achieves a hazy, soft focus view of his subjects that somehow transcend the physicality of the subject. His images strike me as memories or dreams, indistinct but wholly revealed. In contrast, I have a tendency to paint every detail and to refine every shape half to death. I really need to keep reminding myself that every edge need not be sharply rendered.
