Yesterday I experienced withdrawals since my recent fling with conventional oil mediums in Winterthur. I'm torn, aware of how water mixable oils will change my world. And yet... I find myself attached to a memory of a toxic past. That's what being in love is like, it's an optimistic maker, it expands perception. Silly me. Longing for that which is not good for me. Skating over sleek oil spills on sheets of linen was a breeze. Because it was so fluid my experience was fleeting and my materials needed to be rationed. As a result I turned to jute to give me the resistance I desired. Once again I found myself in a similar predicament, experiencing resistance in materials, although for different reasons.
Henry Miller is right - to paint is to love. Clearly my dissatisfaction lies in what I fail to see. In the past I threw caution to the wind when it came to, well just about everything. Things are different now. Especially since I read a quote from Nan Stone which began to haunt me ,"you're important, but the world is important - what are you going to do for it? It's a dialogue between you and your strengths and a world that needs them."
Today is different. A new page, a new chance. I've plunged into portraits and find the medium is adhering to my whims. Painting portraits from memory is just the cure I need. I won't post them quite yet, as I really don't want to offend my friends, family or loved ones. I know it's risky business being a painter, in more ways than one, however I love the sentimental path of recapturing the essence of those I adore without them being present.
I guess this is the Recantado part: it's MAP time of year and I'm rounding up all the loose ends while preparing the 5th issue for publication. Switching from painting to texting is taxing and I wish I had spent more time learning Mac Speech.
Commuting from Antwerp to Winterthur.