Who's there?

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'Who's there?', acrylic on canvas, 1200x1200
Who! not 'what is there?'. This painting was made during some turmoil. Normal stuff: 'Do I want to be alive?', 'What's up there?' etc., etc., etc. Why paint? That is so terrible easy. I paint because I love doing it and I am not very good at much more. This painting started with all the emotional splashy painty stuff, with little memories and feelings, and then the Wehrmacht comes in and 'places' shapes and forms on the surface by cutting them out first, the shapes I'm talking about, and then 'tamponeren', dabbing them on with paints and shablones. Then again when it all looks too tidy splish plash. Sure that was a song some time ago. Well, I live now, 2008, so I'll pop over to Youtube and look the song up! Bobby Darrin of all people. Just some time ago I saw for the second time the film about his life with for me, no doubt, one of the most dedicated and through and through actors around, Kevin Stacey. But hell, I'm writing about the painting: 'Who's there?' An added thing is the canvas I bought at a cheap shop called Overflow ( nicest staff in town, love 'm) is so terribly skew-whiff it confuses the mind!But then again, I did drag the poor painting around the garden en hosed it twice to get the 'unpredictable' affect. Whatever ones thoughts are about The Unknown, The Inexplicable, The Infinite, surely we simply know Something is buzzing around, or not? I most certainly didn't know what I was doing. I just did it. Last night I hung the painting on the wall in our living room, as I do every night with what I am working on, and had a good look. Clemens sayd something nice:' The flowers stood their own right against the dark back ground. Jeremy Bakker, my beloved nephew and fellow painter, remarked that I was painting another tree, no? As I was saying, last night we were having a look. A cup of coffee and a siggie (bad,bad,bad- hate those adds on tv about smoking)( so try the other smoke, no?) and again I started to think about actually going into that painting. With my mind ofcourse. I am not completely mad.But I don't want to do that. Nor do I want to know more, understand more. I have once written that as long as nobody can explain infinity, we shouldn't ask too many questions. Lets face it, if I knew what would happen etc etc etc. But to paint is my personal flirtation with the unknown.