Last Painting

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My last painting, my last cigarette and my last cold frothy cool beer.My last cigarette...

Well, that is the plan for this month anyway!!!! And if I do go to the pub you'de wouldn't recognise me because I'll go dressed up as Julia Gillard, our Prime Minister, or Brad Pitt.
Clemens constructing canvas for last painting.
I think I told you I'm working on my 'Last Painting'. But not to be too serious here first is a selfportrait of me and my Last Cigarette. Still haven't had one but would sell my mother for a puff.!!!!!


I also gave up alcohol and as a true alcoholic I have all the reasons to want to kill myself at times. Thus this Last Painting!!!!! No AA for me, just painting and being nice to Clemens and the dogs and think all night about cigarettes and a cool cold frothy beer!!!! I sleep about 3 or 4 hours a night so have many hours of creative (and destructive) thinking.

'Lat Painting' is a title, not necessarily a statement but the way my energy has gone out of my life and my creativity with it. The title “My last Painting” sounds nice and is also a little dramatic. It could be called a very creative title and it does make you think of all kind of dramatic things (like suicide)... and it does have some truths. I am nearly 70 years old!!!! I sent a message to Facebook that I will never write again on their page, accompanied with a nice and funny nude photo of me. Have a look, have look for the last time.

I ONLY want to be contacted on Gmail or my personal blog. No more bloody one liners or photo's of people I don't know but apparently are well known or good looking or just fxxxxxxng mad.

-- Photo: Clemens constructing canvas for 'Last Painting' with great patience and skill. --

Anyway, here a few photo's.  I know I am repeating myself, but it is going to be one of the best paintings in my life and it will be burned as it is huge. Doesn't even fit into the house! Clemens please help me...

But I was In hospital because I had cut my arms with a knife so badly my bedroom was a pool of blood. I screamed out for Clemens and he phoned for an ambulance and in the hospital they stitched it up.

Why?

A very good friend of mine is dying of prostrate cancer and I felt pain in that very spot. Went to my GP and he gave me a rectal examination and told me it was slightly enlarged. Nothing strange for a man of 67, but you tell that to a man who has NEVER been sick in his life, accept a few mental problems so now and then. But you tell me any painter/artists who hasn't had a little fun with madness! Had some lovely holidays in the loony bin!!!

The pain grew and I felt the cancer grow. I have always said, and mean it to this very day: I'll never be treated with radio or whatever the other one, something therapy is called so decided to make and end of my wonderful life. I'll have bags full of painkillers and copious amount of bottles of beer!!!!

-- Photo: Clemens please help me... I've done it again. ---

And FUN, but NO pain. I cannot handle pain. When I was a little boy in Indonesia our dog Putti went mad, he had rabies and we had to go to the Pasteur Institute in Bandung and EVERYDAY I hid and every day this hand would find me and drag me of to the hospital for these wretched injections in my tummy. A nurse would lock me between her legs and a Chinese doctor would come with this huge needle and nearly kill me. Then I had to run around a field outside to make the serum get into the body and THEN I'd faint as I was allergic to the serum. The last pain I remember was when I broke my toe. Cannot remember how but I passed out as usual. Never been a person to stick around reality for too long. Bugger that! As an altar boy in Balikpapan, Borneo, my mother was a catholic and I had to stand there in front of the community and nearly every time I fainted 'till I was released from that Heavenly duty!

I have lived in Indonesia as a kid, in Iran as a teenager, In Holland I studied at the best and oldest academy in the world, had a great job as art director for POL magazine then lived in the Azores, more than a decade in Portugal and came back to Australia and one day received an e-mail from Clemens that his wife Gerry, I was their best man, had died as my last and beloved Dientje had died in Groningen., around the same time.Standing in front of blank canvas not knowing what the hell to do next.

So it couldn't be better to enjoy our last years together, no? With this pain in my tummy I was thinking constantly to kill myself. Go to my next planet. Not very nice on Clemens but I didn't tell him, yet.

I do believe that when I die it is not me dying but my body and I simply get a new body somewhere somehow on my own new planet. If I knew for sure I'd be writing a best seller, putting the Bible to shame with its opening seas and three poor men crucified for something or another. Murder and or telling the truths. I don't know any more. Have forgotten all that nonsense! Or was it the truth? Just my luck to back the wrong camels!

Until Clemens asked me please not to do something silly as he wouldn't have anybody to talk to I will not kill myself any more. Yet.

--Photo: Waiting for divine inspiration. Fucked if I know. --

And now the biggest joke of all. The absolute proof I am a silly over reacting hypochondriac!!!!

As it happened the cancer was a false alarm. Just a pain in the abdomen  and a slightly enlarged but normal prostate.Ready for a tracing by Clemens

But the depression has taken away my energy and my smile BUT for one thing: MY LAST PAINTING.. I HAVE DELIBERATELY LEFT THE 'LAST' WORD TO MIND F***K  myself and you the reader.. A little drama. I am a show-off. If an artist is NOT a show-off he or she who say they are should become an accountant or dentist! So I kept believing this feeling my life was coming to an end, as ALL life is coming to the end but I used it at the time I chose!!!!

-- Photo: Ready for a tracing. Angelo and I waiting patiently for Clemens --

It will be a great painting, huge in size and very emotional and sensual and then I am going to burn it. Burn it with all the respect one can imagine. All the exquisitely beautiful colours we get from mixing paints and fire. And also for the show affect it has as so many people think paintings are sacred or at least worth a little money. Or could become worth a fortune!!!!!

I'll have to inform the police and fire brigade. I will also invite our local newspapers etc. Make a show of it!!! As it happened I did none of this as I suddenly wanted to burn it and it was Sunday and the weather was fine and Clemens willing to help me etc etc etc.

What I'll LOVE to do is stand next to it and get dressed up in white and dripping with kerosene and burn with it but that might be a little painfull and anyway: Clemens has to talk to someone, my promise, for Heavens sake, we have known each other for 60 years, His parents I called uncle and aunty. Anyway I always thought my mother had more than a soft spot for his dad as both were Catholics married to Heathens.

--Photo: The beginning. This is where it all started. I decided to do me. --

But isn't it great to live like this ? Oldish men, walking every day 8 km with out beloved dogs, and I cannot even try to describe how lovely and sweet these dogs are to everybody. Little kids, old people, other dogs. Just wagging their tails with total happiness. Every morning at 7 o'clock the puppies hop on my bed and give me a facial, lick me nearly to the next world. And at 9 Angelo comes and pushes me out of bed. TIME TO WALK, YOU LAZY HUMANOID!!!!And look how happy we are now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-- Photo: happy as a googy egg. Finished. Now I know I can burn it. Remember to sign it! Or they won't know in heaven I did it... --

Cannot stop thinking about the painting outside waiting for me!!!! I have many many thoughts but they are all going to be human bodies, overlapping and joined with, I THINK, BEAUTIFUL BRIGHT COLOURS. A multitude of black outlined bodies filled with beautiful colours! Shit, it is now 5.30 in the morning and dark outside!!!!!Experimenting with the burning on a smaller canvas using kerosene.

Am trying to say is that we are Shell Oil Company victims. We, as kids, had to be close to each other as our parents were too busy having fun and cocktails. Americans, British, Dutch and a few Iranians were forever over the floor and our servants running around pouring them drinks and toast with things on them. We just looked and somehow thought they all were aliens. Then we had to go back to our boarding schools or 'en-familia', were the people were sort of normal then, always first class travelling to these weird countries.

 

No wonder I am normal. In this whole world I have now only one friend to talk to and that is Clemens and of-course the two dogs.

 

I have a daughter in Holland, Renate Arends (her biography as an opera singer is at: http://www.sorekartists.com/Artist.aspx?id=19) and a lovely first wife and mother of Renate. She, Heleen is a graphic designer and is/was the most beautiful girl in our class. Still cannot believe she married me with my big nose.

We both have an Indonesian background. Heleen's father was a dentist and one of the nicest men you can imagine. With a wooden leg! He was one quarter Javanse and her mother, also one of the most lovely and sophisticated woman one can hope for had an Indian background and was an artist.

 

Here the final burning painting. Now in the Heaven with all the other paintings, chitchatting with the Mona Lisa or maybe even the Nightwatch!!!

Burning my 'Last Painting' #0

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Burning my 'Last Painting' #1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Burning my 'Last Painting' #2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Burning my 'Last Painting' #3

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well, enough now. When may I take this single ticket to Paradise?

 


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Comments

Hee, Paul! Leef met je mee, je gevecht met koning alcohol lijkt mij zwaar. Maar het zou oneindig triest en jammer zijn om een lucide geest als die van jou van hem te zien verliezen. Dat kan niet, mag niet. Leef je uit in je werk, rook er wat bij (er moet toch iets lekkers over blijven op onze leeftijd) en ga door met wat je gewoonlijk doet. Enne, de grootste angsthazen over enge ziektes hebben de minste kans het te krijgen. Alleen, ouder worden is hell. Je geest is 25, maar je lijf is 67. Ook ik HAAT dat. Maar het is niet anders -misschien kunnen we ooit onze breinen laten transplanteren naar een jonge cloon-. De laatste 2 weken waren we in de buurt van Fiqueras bij Barcelona om een 53 jarige neef van Truus naar zijn dood te begeleiden. Daar in spanje een langzaam en gruwelijk proces. Dat hakt er emotioneel erg in. Ook het leed van zijn Thaise man -getrouwde homo's waren het- was hartverscheurend. Toen ik onverwacht in Bisbal was bij het kasteel van Gala, moest ik even aan je denken en je ervaring met de grote meester. En dat terwijl jij je sneed. Telepatie is een vreemde zaak. hou je taai. Blijf! Jos

You

Paul,Ik weet nu eindelijk me wie ik te maken heb. Je bent met de zus van Gerard getrouwd geweest en mijn zus Marijke is de vriendin van Gerard. Ik heb jou en Dien op een feestje op de schanswal in Emmen ontmoet. Ik lees je stukken. Je kunt het stukjes noemen maar het zijn er wel veel. Soms kan ik je wel wat doen, halve gare. soms begrijp ik je ook wel heel goed. Je ziet er trouwens nog wel goed uit voor een zuipschuit en verwoed roker. Ik wist dat je zo gek bent als een deur want ik heb de kerstkaart van jou en Dien gezien en je mails gelezen. Het is goed dat je Clemens hebt.Laatste painting , niks ervan.