And on Wednesdays he sings.….. (oil on linen) work in progress.
The painting follows a strange and unpredictably predicatable rythmn.
Surge – must, need, crave – Tired, oops, oh, yuck, – Want, think, dream, can’t, fidget, – Rest. Surge, whoops, yay!
Sometimes it is in perfect harmony, sometimes it is all complete rubbish, sometimes it feels like I’m an effortless conduit, sometimes it feels like I am a wrestler. Who is losing. And knows it.
It breaks your heart, it makes you soar, it makes you cry with an indefinable note that can’t be quantified but is beautiful, and terrible, and unbearable.
What is art? It’s so subjective, but part of getting there for me is this turning oneself inside out on a regular basis. It’s amazing what you can find in there. I hope one day it will be a lot easier to just spill it out. And then again I don’t. That passion is the thing that keeps us all going isn’t it, and I’ve given up shopping. Much nicer to see what you can pull out of your own mind. And to admire what others are finding on their own journeys is a wonderful, beautiful thing. 🙂