RE: My Routine of Late
Does what I hear inspire what I paint?
Sometimes, yes. More so the titles and definitely the “feel” of where I’m going with the piece. I like to think of my work as a daily journal. History was my major in college, and social and personal (geneological) history has always fascinated me. I believe artists should paint the times, their times. Even if their time is a landscape or a vase of flowers. Lucky for them if it is! I’m more of a rebel to the world I ended up in—so I often paint via feelings of estrangement to the culture I can’t deny but wish I could:)
On average I paint 5 hours a day, and take a day off on Saturday or Sunday. And yes, I dance in the studio. But with great highs come intense lows. I also keen and weep on the floor, as the cat looks on like I’m in a death throe:)
Nothing as complexed as feelings, emotions are overwhelming and the more sensitive the more to "digest". No hights, happiness without depts.
Your paintings are, no matter the topic, vibrant, colourful which makes them even speak louder.
Is it a rebel or on the barricades?
It isn't easy to look away and close the eyes, at least not to me. My plus is I live far away from people to let my brain rest.
A diary of paintings or drawings is a great idea more people should do that (or take that daily photo) or create the feeling of the day.
Could you live without painting? Would you change the garden in a painting if?
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Ah, if I get your meaning, I would say “the barricades”. Hold off the negative trappings of my culture for as long as I can while taking random shots at it.
I keep myself away from people—not aloof, just away. I’m wary of most anyone walking on two feet. So many interactions I have, even among family and friends, are superficial and stultifying. I’ll venture out from time to time, not experience any meaningful connections, and then back to the barricade! :)
Could I live without painting?
Funny you should ask. I am considering giving away (and burning) everything I have made thus far, and stopping painting altogether. The obsession has gone awry. Recently I feel it has lessened my lust for life. I set out with art to keep the child always, yet I fear my painting is taking me too rapidly to the womb or the tomb. Either direction is the wrong way. Maybe just a break, and three seasons of gardening. Meditate in the buckwheat on sunny summer mornings instead of slouched in the studio coloring in whatever comes out of my head.
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