Here's a series of four views of the same ridge, not as it actually is but as what it became on the paper as I worked. While I'm throwing around the word "actually", this ridge doesn't actually exist. I guess I should call it Figment Ridge. Or maybe Figmont.
It seems to me that the differing color and value of the land make it appear to radically change from one painting to the next, so that any sense of an actual place is lost. I must say, watching that difference evolve made for a strangely dissociative experience. To a geologist, it may appear to be a continental shift and to a chemist, an atomic shift.
Come to think of it, psychiatry is all about shifting figments.