'Optimism' revisited

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Island. Composit on canvas, 250 x 350
Last year I painted something to hang on the wall during the passing of the year. No mystical or spiritual meaning added whatsoever. I painted it just to look at.

What is so wonderful about a painting is it's nothing more than a piece of stretched canvas and it can invite you to such a wondrous world. It offers all or nothing or like it or not. Worse, you are not interested.

So the painting was a party piece?

Yes. No.

No, I started to travel into the lines and patches of colour and saw all the irritations. Where help is needed.

Getting rid of these little buggers starts you talking to the Image and a certain game of respect develops and 'Í am the Boss' here. I suppose I am.

If you just read on you will understand who is the Boss between Painter and the Painted. Me, the Boss, the Brushes, God the Holy Father or maybe a knife.

Of course as the painter I know I will lose. I always do and actually that is the wonderful and gratifying thing. At the end of the day I look at something and often I feel I did not actually do it. Or did. To do or not to do. In some ways I think painting is a little like the computer system. It must have a maker. The 'Ýes' and 'No' system.Island One. Composit on canvas, 250 x 350


The Dance

Moving a brush around a canvas, the 'stage', I call the Dance. The choreography has been worked out in my mind. All those little librarians and assistant librarians running around my head like mad trying to keep up with the pace. Keep up with what is happening.

Yes/No, move the brush to the right you shit-head.

What's wrong you fool, can't you remember?

Maybe because my approach to the New Year Painting I called OPTIMISM was wrong but I couldn't give it the seal of approval so decided to do something.

What if I cut it into smaller pieces?

I did cut it up and now have five paintings.

You can see them. I feel they are islands in a sphere. It humbles me to look at these little pearls. They are so pretty. That their mother had to be cut up is something we would all like to forget.

I am not completely open here. It was not only irritation with the starry starry stars I painted, I cheated a little and should  have painstakingly dotted the stars one by one but my impatience made me do a shoddy job.

So what! It's the New Year. I have one foot in the dirty hole, for Heaven's sake.Island Three. Composit on canvas, 250 x 350


I cannot believe myself. I am still lying.

I don't need to remember, but it was something totally different why I cut up the painting. With a nasty sharp knife too.

So the painting was the victim of my laziness. Bullshit. I was unhappy.

And that is now totally over. I told you so. That is why we don't want to remember. Forgetting is man's protection.

My Librarians, God bless them, do all the psychological stuff. Put every little irritant in a box and a pretty bow is tied around it for safekeeping. Maybe the next painting?

Look at the little babies to see the mother.

But who is the Father?

phb