11 June 2020
Trees wearing red rubies
The nights are chilly and a big Southerly polishes the black sky full of stars. These sessions are chilly too, as I never seem to be dressed appropriately but winter is definitely here.
This painting was kind of a surprise for me because I knew while I was working on it that it was eliciting a strong feeling from deep inside me. I really love this super pale hint of Prussian Blue broken with lemon yellow at the very top of the picture. It rises up out of the warm highlights of light over the deeper yellow beneath. “Yes!” The painter in me exclaimed to no one: “That is it !” Something about the warm sensual colours and the gentle overall feeling spoke to me but like in a foreign language; French!
This gentle transition from one hue to another is the whole reason I still come out to paint the sea at this dusk hour. “All that for just this?” the sceptic who know little of aesthetic joy, might think to themselves, “Mais oui! I respond emphatically!” I’ll further confess that I stole these soft transitions in the sky from Mahler’s long elegiac passages in his 5th Symphony, the Adagietto. Because you see, Art, unlike the leopard, not only changes its spots, but its species as well.
It’s weird to watch yourself painting an image that comes from a motif way out there, yet at the same time it evoked up from within me a visual memory that’s really old and friendly, a feeling not unlike that of Proust’s Madelaine cookie. But in this case it was prompted not by taste but through a visual sense.
What I understand is that this study from the other afternoon brought up memories from long ago, ones that I had described in my diary from when I lived at the Châteaunoir in Aix. For the past year I’ve been transcribing these diaries into my laptop, a laboriously slow process, and one that has filled me with many delicious memories that spring back up like one of those tall inflatable stick figures at a car wash.
Two memories came to me in this instance. I remember when living there I would walk most evenings into the forest usually with several cats in tow. And often, around sunset in autumn and winter particularly, when the sun was setting, the last red rays would scatter everywhere, randomly throwing small red marks upon the forest trees. The oak and pine trees were wearing red rubies likes medals pinned to their bark for as far as I could see.
And this triggered another memory, like it piggy-backed upon the first from southern India, where would the women paste cow dung onto the trees for drying which they then use for cooking. In that dry landscape, all the trees that lined the road were painted with pale pink polka dots like Yayoi Kusama had been there the day before. Somehow, looking at this picture brought all of this to the forefront of my imagination.
Transcribig a diary from 1980’s made clear several things to me. Firstly, is that I saw that I was so much more grateful and full of joy than I ever remembered being during all those years. I had erroneously imagined that I was eternally depressed, but the diary tells me otherwise, despite my sadness and sense of solitude that I often did feel in those years.
Secondly, I realised just how golden it is to have youth on one’s side, but also, to have one’s good health too. This human body is a precarious life-force for most of us and to have good health is to have a greater advantage for living well. So, I was young and healthy when if I drank too much wine.
So tonight, I come away from this easy amble down through memory lane with an appreciation that if indeed there was a golden era back then, then surely today it is also just as golden too, n’est-ce pas? And In twenty years time hence, when I shall indeed be a real older man, will I look back and not marvel at how grateful and happy I also feel today? Will my future self not smile at the providence with which I am abundantly graced today?
And so thus this small inconspicuous study from the other night brought up so many things for me and I find that really remarkable for just an average normal painting session.
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