It is amazing how one stroke of a brush or line of charcoal can exhilarate. Without over-thinking I let the painting itself guide me into new territory, Aries rising leads the way, until something unique and intriguing is discovered.
Sometimes a little insanity is a good thing...that's what art has taught me.
Amorphous forms arise from the murky deep. Sea creatures feed.
Art making requires supreme faith in one's humanity, or what's the point in living? Working alone we face ourselves - can you handle it? What kind of world do you want to create given a choice?
My painting dreams ME into being almost as if I don't exist until I paint it so. Sometimes I'd like them to be more political, but often they just don't care...their roots grow deeper, their consciousness primeval...a reminder of hidden depths we've yet to plunder.
Innocence lost, a forgotten melody, a charm, a far off friend, a sorrow buried...these marks I make a reminder.
Paintings I love: the Post Impressionists, Expressionism, the Fauves: Matisse, Gaugin, Kirchner, Nolde, Munch, Der Blaue Reiter, early 20th century Paris, woodcuts - raw emotions.
Where to go next? One false move it's ruined.
"No" to painting today. It's so perfect and sunny but paint it is and so I sit and stare and wait and ponder and write and dream and worry and wait and hem and haw and fiddle and fuss until the birds and the breeze and me are in synch then I close my eyes, take off my glasses, put down this pen.
Can things be easy just for once? Like having someone else sell my work so I can paint and printmake and write and Circle. Does there have to be a hard part. Can't we all flow?
What's the good of expressing emotions? Well, for the "armoured amazon" (Schierse Leonard), let down by an emotion-less father figure it spells hope for mankind and I do mean the 'man' part.
The fire that burns within must be released or else one dies from the inside. Commercializing art-making brings no joy or hope or spark to me. Creating and releasing. The trick takes place in the next act: the selling and marketing of the work - not my job, but like breadcrumbs to the wolf, my paintings are being discovered by the trickster who resides in each of us.
EXTRA BIT: Perhaps by facing and owning this trickster, this huckster of dime store dreams, we can save what's left of our culture and ourselves. If dreams are paintings let mine save nothing, not souls, not dreams, not minds, no escape from ourselves. So what's left? What's the point? There is no point. We've only got our own life to make a difference. How will you make a difference? The point is to go beyond everything and into new territory and yes, I'm sure it's been explored before, but for me it's new - that's where the thrill lies. New for me, is having faith in my work in and of itself and for no other reason other than that it exists and its good and its speaks to me.