On My Path

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Graffiti on Madison AvenueGraffiti Shadows on Madison AvenueRipe mangoes on Madison AvenueRain on our Path on Madison AvenueRed Leaves on Madison Avenue

It isn't the first time I write about our daily walks with the dogs through our most beautiful tropical park. The colours, the greens and the reds and mad bright blue berries blown all over the cement footpath and with the daily rains or not and the graffiti on the path, very enlightening about the kids, I imagine these slabs to be huge big paintings only fit for the top galleries in London and New York. So that bit of the walk I call the 'Madison Avenue Strip'. So terribly sophisticated. Further on we have the 'Queen Elizabeth walk', I called it so because I wish I could wake up there . And have my morning coffee. Elizabeth, just for comfort, my era.

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But not only the beautiful colours attract my attention but also the little branches fallen from the trees the cut up pieces of wood that look to me so human. As long as I can remember I have always seen trees as people diving into Mother Earth. Often I can even see the sex of the diving person. Or tree. Sometimes pregnant.

Now I am actually making little figures out of these findings and they are so cute. So lovely to work with.

I never knew that a piece of wood has five different skins, I leave the piece in the sun for a day, hanging with other bits with all the same huge karmic change: they will become an object to please humans.

Little bits of wood all dressed up with new black paint smothering their nudity.

But writing about this slightly abstract subject is futile because I can show you a few photo's.

Black body 4Colour body 4Little manColour body 5Tango girlsTwo naked bodies

Photo caption: Bodies fallen from trees. More bodies in the Sculpture Gallery

I have also thought I don't want to paint any more. Next I'll be 65 years old, surely 20 more than I had ever thought.

Painting a picture, from your mind or from life, is always for someone, some body, to see. To look at. One needs that other person to legitimise the visual.

I am sure nobody is waiting to see the next painting, the painting to be made for the entire world to see.

No, I don't think so.

So what to do with the paintings I have?

I will cut them up into small pieces and make booklets out of them.

The last time I had this problem with too many paintings and me wanting to move on was in the Azores, on the island of Santa Maria. I lived on this island for a year in 1973, I had so many paintings that I decided to burn them in the orchard at the back of the house.

I still believe I caused the first chemical pollution on the island as it smoked to terribly.

Now I walk around and see huge trees and I see the beautiful bodies they have and I know I CANNOT chop them up for my statues. But they are getting bigger. My statues, but also my desire to make a life-size figure....

Today I started on two pieces of wood, 60 cm high, and they will be a couple.

I'll tell you more later.

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La tumba de Tut Ankh Amon by obokaman_com


Photo credit: 'La tumba de Tut Ankh Amon' by obokaman_com. Source: flickr.com

At the moment we hear allot about King Tut Ank-Amon- the Egyptian golden mummy. Apparently he died of Malaria, had a bad back, cleft pallet and maybe a club foot.

But he was of the highest blood, his father and mother shared the same blood pool. You must imagine they truly believed they were everything and all around them was nothing. What a way to get up in the morning.

I believe they knew that if the match worked it was great, in their sense Great, God-like Great, if not, it died or was helped to die by the priests. Generations were being manipulated like that for sure. No short cuts.

But what these Egyptians leave us is beyond belief. I, as Clemens does also, believe these creatures, this culture came from somewhere else.

I visited the Pyramids of Giza on my way back to Europe, now quiet a few years ago. I stood in the King's burial chamber with that huge and empty stone coffin. In silence. Suddenly I could hear another tourist in the ante-chamber freaking out. Vomiting and peeing. Probably shitting himself too. Poor man, but we left the chamber and I walked forward down the tunnel, foot for foot. When I reached the exit and saw all the sun I was blinded for about 20 minutes. Thank you Pharaoh Tut.

But I do fantasise that I was a painter of colours during their illustrious time. Ta Tut....

And now I am happy on a journey where wood, branches and sensual shapes are on my mind.

And getting bigger?

phb