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odds and ends

Strange shadow

Strange shadow

Black Scum, shadow play

Black Scum, shadow play

pussy and Teddy: Where are they?

pussy and Teddy: Where are they?

Laurie Anderson video: O Superman

TwoFace sillouette

TwoFace sillouette

wednesday 2 July 2008

TwoFace sillouette

This day we had to bury our cat Twoface. She was killed by a big dog. Too quick, for sure. It was a horrible battle and I saw the light go out of her eyes. I only have once before, with my beloved Diena, had the 'Death experience', but I do remember looking into eyes that didn't look back. Ears that didn't hear me anymore. Hands that didn't feel me anymore.

Anyway, lately I have this theme in my paintings. The unknown, the dark, because of the lack of Light, a little inviting but not much.

At this point in time, this supremely happy time, never the less, the last thing I want to know about is how I'd handle another situation involving death. Let alone handle pain.

Painting these scenes with the roots, literally crawling up or down, are still worrying me. I worry whether I am handling such a heavy subject a little superficially. Getting off on pretty colours and unexpected shapes.

Well. pussy is buried in the garden under the banana trees.
And she's on the yellow canvas.

phb
'Yellow Tree Plus', acrylic on canvas, 1200x1200.

Met online

Met online

Cats don't think about paintings

Paul and 'Who's there', acrylic on canvas, 1200x1200. Photo by Clemens Vermeulen.
Some time ago I had come to the conclusion the world was much 'smaller' then before. Because of e-mail via the internet, multi functional mobiles, Facebook, MySpace, YouTube, XTube, etc., etc. Shit, writing a letter is now 'snail mail'.

People go to sleep at night thinking: 'well, I have contacted more than one hundred people today. I sent so many coffees, pokes, kisses and hugs and I hope that tomorrow all my friends will have answered me. Sent me many Martinis.'

It's like The Reader's Digest all over. A shortened version of a great book made even greater because all can read it without deep moral or religious dilemmas. Like half a painting? And Reader's Digest publishers don't even try to bind that tiny magazine in a way it can open easily. Like a forbidden book.

But the distances have stayed the same. Speed is the big difference. I had a look at Youtube today and as a joke I tapped in a name of a singer from the 60's, a singer who called herself 'Singer without a name' (Zangeres zonder naam)(click on) and it made me cringe. Yes, for sure, everybody has his or her story and wherever you go in the electronic world the supply is endless. It makes me want to just give up a little.

TwoFace. Photo by Clemens Vermeulen.
It pisses me off that I am asked daily by Facebook if I am trustworthy. I must look now at my Facething as so many people write now via these outlets. And I feel guilty if I don't send something on to you all to save some life somewhere somehow.

E-Bay is another thing I don't know much about but I went to the Paintings section and many of the paintings are 'Made in China', for sale at the best offer. Or something like that.

Why am I complaining? I am having a battle with my Muze. Working on this painting, here above, and it just sits there staring at me. And the cat is staring at me. Or the cat is staring at the painting thinking.... Oh come now, cats don't think about paintings.

phb

 'We met online'.

P.S.

After all the above: The painting is finished, was finished but the umbilical cord hadn't been severed!

Haunted by Mondrian

Self portrait with bird (actually my psychologist M).

I must confess the Mondrian paintings I posted before are worrying me. If the man did such beautifully painted paintings, pushing his oil paints around the canvas to get that strange effect: semi realism, did he enjoy making it? That strange red and blue tower in a yellow dune landscape and then: Intellectualisms or 'religious' Fatalism.

As 'begeistered' or driven he might have been, did he ever miss the FUN? Did he give up something for a higher something? My last tree was painfully realistic yet I didn't paint it like that. It just simply happened. So I stared at a canvas yesterday. I made it as sweet, soft and suggestive as possible. Then I want to re-introduce some 'intellectualism. I will make an 'Ode to Mondrian's lost love'.

It is 3.38 in the morning and today I did nothing, just stared. And we had the cat's stitches removed from her tummy.
I rearranged my work table, all the shit on the left I moved to the right.

But I kept seeing this huge soft pink and yellow. This big fat pink canvass, using the smell of early morning. Wallowing in self contentment, if that exists. I'll show it what a Theo van Doesburg does on a lazy morning. Introduce it to something very political. Or maybe I'll go to the History Channel on Austar.
In progress stage 1, 080509.

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