My journey into the dark started with colors. The dark I speak of is my mind. Painter has this quality to it that lets you make what ever you can dream up; so you have to challenge your self to look so deep in yourself that you hit bottom every time. I build pathways to the sea bed back to the surface and then plant seeds for new concepts. It leaves me swollen and scared in a good way. Plant a tree and feed a forest. The roots are strong and powerful but not meant to last longer then a few lifetimes of paintings. Maybe a few hundred paintings and then a new tree has to be planted on top of it. Madness, beautiful madness.
This life feels like a war. The hero and the villains are just me. It’s silly how many times I kill me in the mornings. I rise back up only to come eye to eye with my true worst enemy and best allies. The word insanity does not cover it. I go left its wrong, I faint right and I’m wrong. So many imperfections and all are madness. All I find true any of it is chaos. The fire melts the paper into ash and then becomes ink and then is the lifeblood of creativity. I don’t know how to win but maybe the win is never the point but the freedom of chaos is.
Be the ink and stain as you go. The marks are the eyelashes of the sleeping face and in the morning they have washed away only to be replaced every night. Pollack had this drunken madness of making like no one else and didn’t care if it lasts past his life. I want to adopt this idea of madness. It feels the heartbeat of truth in my time.
I think I'm going to start an endless war with myself in making. I wonder who will win?
Both will survive or both will die and both can choice the stillness of inaction but I want the fight.
So I’m working on all these pieces trying to cultivate a masterpiece. It feels almost impossible but the unattainable is the goal of all master artists. I feel like I’m learning so much from just doing these days and building in my mind as well. Nothing is my stopping point but me. There are hard steps but I’m choosing to walk into them with my head high and my shoulders back. There will be changes and reflexive reactions. the beast is my nature and my nature is the chaos of being creative. No soul knows everything but good planning leave little for mistakes and forgiving yourself to make mistakes painting leads to our right brilliant brush strokes.
the studio just feels really beautiful to me right now. I almost don’t want to touch anything. The quiet before the storm. Chaos is a nosebleed that you feel coming and all you can do is ready yourself.