I have been ticked off, ticked on my fingers, lately, about a few things and from a few good friends.
One is that I repeat myself. The other is I write too much about myself, Paul Bakker and ignore the rest of the world.
Well, to start with, it is a blog about me and my art. Not about Syria or
Arnold Schwarzenegger or whoever!
I don't seem to worry about the rest of the world. Well, I don't so that is correct. That doesn't mean I don't know what is happening but I worry more about what colour I'll be using in the background for my next self portrait. Doing these self portraits daily, that is indeed one a day, makes one very aware of oneself. Not the rest of the world.
I do think allot about my life so far. I lived as an adult in Holland and Portugal and Australia and many things happened. Mostly good. And I've been very lucky. Never poor but never rich. Never sick or never living in fear and all I worried about was my next painting. And for a long time, about my next drink. But that is in the past. Soooo long ago. I didn't say I never told a lie, a white lie of course.
But no alcohol or tobacco now any more and that is that ! Just painting and walking the dogs. Sometimes a little fantasy about a coldy and a siggy.....
All my life, yes, a repeat again, I lived to paint. Not in a heavy way but that was/is all I really know about. All I was confident about.
Never had anything to do with the police and once I needed a background check-up because I was going to work with teenagers, the policeman said to me; 'Paul, you don't exist!' I said; Because I don't drive a car. Left out and didn't pay taxes. I was never asked and that is that !
But something amazing has changed the last year. I actually look at my work and think, without shame, shit, I am a good painter.
Most of my life I shared with other artists, people in the art world or people that loved art and even liked artists. But the last few years, five actually now, I live with Clemens, a guy I have known all my life. From Indonesia, Iran and Holland and Australia. Best man at his wedding and Godfather to his first born son Mark.
See, I am repeating myself. Have written this all before. So you'd say: Why again ? Well, not everybody has a perfect memory and I write things in connection. Like jam and jar.
But here in Queensland I am not particularly connected with the art scene or world and can take a more objective look at myself and my work. And that is, thank the Gods, very very positive.
I had a good look at the things I have made the last twenty years and was truly amazed. Nothing humble here.
I have favourite colours but more, certain colours I don't particularly like.
Red and orange for sure but oddly enough they are optically green and blue, my favourite colours. So what the eye sees and the mind are opposites yet family.
But again repeating myself (I wont let up on this, will I) Life is a repetition.
Every morning I'll say: Good morning and when I have my coffee I'll say: Nice coffee. Nobody will say: That's what you said yesterday.
And painting is a continuation anyway. You might finish a piece of work on a piece of canvas but when you continue on another surface it is, whatever way you look at it, a continuation.
So that is that.
And now I am going to paint something, a continuation, to accompany this slightly scratchy writing, albeit with a smile in my heart.
I find it unthinkable to paint with a bad mood. Or even to tease a cat.
Paul. 1st April 2013.