Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Jotted on a tram.

I was on the way to have some tests done related to my eye (keratitis since January 17—such a drag not being able to see clearly) and was suddenly struck by the urge to write this about the paintings I have been doing. It's not very well-written but I'm glad it's beginning to crystallize.

The paintings are about me. Rather, they are a denial of the artificial, the mistaken identity with which I try to reconcile myself every day. Everything about them—the superficial scumbling of paint, their perspectival flatness countered by illusions of volume; the subject matter of volcanoes, which are by nature demonstrative, referential to some profound subterranean energy, with festering, dangerous tension; and finally, the act of painting itself: reiterative, contemplative, a mantra—all of these things are attempting to permeate the hard crust of "identity."

2 comments:

swan queen said...

beautiful...

Amber said...

I had to comment since you made this post on my birthday...I hope the sight has improved. Isn't it wonderful that the the mind and the heart can expand and enjoy life regardless of the impaired vision? Eyes only see so much anyway, that is made clear by this post..