Shout into dark, deepen the word.
In my youth I was obsessed with Spaghetti Westerns. A massive part of the appeal was the amazing music of Ennio Morricone.
As an aging adult I still love the world the music conjures. Driving down an empty highway with that music playing makes me feel like a giddy antihero loving kid, R.I.P. Ennio.
Apology is the word for you. Moments gone to time and dust. Tongue still dry it whispers dark. Howling low it knows the tune.
Drawn to Dark, you antiflame. Vibrations will not stop, still it turns. Threaded and lost in the eddy of fear. My bleeding gums shine bright.
Night repeating as burned out day. Floating above dream’s breath. A loop then ride before the flames.
The rain and sun of spring are a source of inspiration. I decided to break down the imagery into something of an abstracted pattern. The result is a bit hypnotic and perhaps meditative.
The paint is often the subject of my work as much as any imagery.
Rushing winds on stagnant water. Life’s elements decay in dark. Reaching out, your friends now gone forever. The shutter dulls a ceaseless pain. There was a time I may have whispered into you.
It really feels like the end of days still the sun is shining. My modest 401k has gone away even as the snow turns back to ground. Finance and health aside the stretching days are filled with light. Thankful this didn’t happen in the darkened depths of Fall.
Hip to be Square
As a kid I never painted a square painting. I liked a rectangular format that could be a tall image or a wide image.
Often on Instagram people will comment about how they like the unusual shape of some of my custom made panels. With my contrary nature it makes me avoid unusual shapes!
Again I started thinking about sanding down some huge square panels I have buried in the attic. I realized part of the draw of the square format is the extra blank quality. The shape has no compositional interest. Sure a large square has a modern appeal but to me there is something so stark and empty about the square format. The painting is everything.
Sometimes (maybe always)
People ask about the brush I used in a particular Instagram Story. Folks get excited, then it seems incredibly important to me. Where is that brush have I lost it or did I accidentally throw it out? Was that brush the reason that painting worked? Can a paint anymore without said brush? Seeming doubtful now…
A strange life driven to create. My motives are pure, I continue my work. Grumpy old man… I may well be.
Not sure where I put that brush…