Find me by the water
my toes cold from the edge of the wet
the pinky toes resting the eyes of the next painting on my mind
madness
best part of making
toys of a child
Rage time hurt madness the brush is too honest. The action is the riot. I don’t feel the “cash money word.” I am never the DJ from Do the Right Thing.
I am the tool of the paint and ink never the narrator as it happens but the narrator as it ends post motion The soul of me wants to rest in a pure ocean of fluid making.
The thing about growing as a person is you only really see it after it happens a year later mostly. I feel in my new year of life I’m learning a lot more about control of my inner thoughts. I’m stopping from just arguing about the simple bits, “just keep making kiddo.”
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.