From this past week are just of several different versions from this motif which now slips into a more pschodelic-looking winter coat. They are all so different because everything changes daily, and as I always admit, they are different because I am always so different each afternoon, each moment.
They are, after all, totally improvised, a fact which is hard to explain away to most people because some pictures look quite ‘realistic’ (for lack of a better word) while others, look like overdose on mushrooms (like the top one).
But to me, there are all the same, despite me never quite being the same each time I work. I am not a dentist after all, someone, from whom one expects a standardised service, in theory at least, and let’s face it, a root canal must be done with a procedural expertise
Mais non! I am more like an octopus that finds an innocuous spot somewhere, then fits itself into the surrounding decor with an uncanny talent for melding colours and shapes with its own body. This is a specimen of great intelligence and discretion. (I would fit the latter adjective but maybe not the former)
In any event, this Autumn brings shorter days (Drat!) but more intense colours (Yea!) Winter skies can be truly hallucinogenic without need of any mushrooms, which I don’t take anymore, anyway.
It is always special for me to set up my easel, preparing the palette because in that small space, the sky is already whispering to me. By the time I have prepared everything, already, I hear a small song and beginning a picture is a gentle few steps up the keys and up into the sky.
Come to thing of it, it reminds me a lot of Hangliding. After spreading the glider wings, on the ground, putting in the ribs and struts, arranging a few nuts and bolts, then tightening everything, putting myself into the harness and helmet, strapping myself into the carabiner, I lift the glider and walk carefully to the top of the take-off ramp, secretly I make the sign of the cross, then I begin running down the ramp and I’m picked up quickly and miraculously by the glider with the sharp tug of my harness straps; Suddenly, I am airborne and climbing into the afternoon sky.
There is preparation and faith, then bliss.
Painting is that too.
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