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"There are at least two kinds of games," states James Carse in the beginning of his book. "One could be called finite; the other infinite."

"Finite games are the familiar contests of everyday life; they are played in order to be won, which is when they end. But infinite games are more mysterious. Their object is not winning, but ensuring the continuation of play. The rules may change . . . There are no spatial or numerical boundaries to an infinite game. No world is marked with the barriers of infinite play, and there is no question of eligibility since anyone who wishes may play an infinite game.
 
"Infinite players cannot say when their game began, nor do they care. They do not care for the reason that their game is not bounded by time. Indeed, the only purpose of the game is to prevent it from coming to an end."
 
James P. Carse, "Finite and Infinite Games: A Vision of Life as Play and Possibility"

 
 
A very long time ago my sister and I decided to take a workshop in northern Wisconsin, close to the place our parents owned a cabin. Pat (Undis) was a watercolorist and art teacher. I, at that point, worked in pastels. Neither of us were landscape painters, and neither of us painted in oils, but we signed up for an outdoor oil painting workshop taught by Charles Movalli. He was not only an exciting painter, but a regular contributor to American Artist magazine, and editor of several Emile Gruppe books. We were probably in over our heads, but we forged ahead, trying our best to figure out how to use oil paint and paint outside.

One afternoon we were painting along a small river when it started to rain. My view was of the river, a small dock, background trees, moving clouds, and changing light. At one point Movalli asked why I was putting the dock in my painting. (It must have looked awkward.) "Because it's there," I replied. Immediately I realized how ridiculous that sounded. Out came the dock. But I was still struggling. Finally, with my palette getting wet, and trying in vain to get the sense of color and light I saw, I slashed some orange in the foreground. Movalli came running up from I don't where, yelling, "That great! Why did you do that?" I don't remember what I said. I probably mumbled something about the light. It could have just been a desperate measure. But it did save the day, so to speak, and I still have the painting - a  reminder of persistence and possibility.

 
"Finite games can be played within an infinite game, but an infinite game cannot be played within a finite game. Infinite players regard their wins and losses in whatever finite games they play as but moments in continuing play."