Mind of deep crazy – Page 8

zzzz….

November 19, 2017November 19, 2017 jawara318Leave a comment

falling into that moment when the world goes to sleep and the cat and I visit the land of smirks. This cold air is a kiss from every soul that ever existed beyond the grasp of anything else that ever walked before 3:30 AM. It’s fun and yet it has this quality that reminds me of the first time I opened my eyes to the ocean underwater and saw the other side of the world.

Booklights and leather bound sketchbooks whisper the secrets of the last people awake at these hours. These earbuds talk to me about history and tones and notes by the greater artist than I.

I’m just wondering if the stars look up and see us?

Batman rug

question

November 18, 2017 jawara318Leave a comment

What do you do in the cold seasons to stay positive?

Last two weeks I spent in search of perfect painter madness. This journey I love so much in The Fall. I try all my best to not lose my inspiration with the cold brown leaves. Mostly I feel, that I am doing well. I think taking weird filter camera pictures is a big help. The dinners outside of my studio with our friends help too.

making

November 16, 2017 jawara318Leave a comment

Something so magical about drinking wine and laughing over ideas of paint and beauty. I adore the lines of words that jump across the ceiling from mouths to the sparks in my iris.

I’m walking in the paint tonight. The pigments are hard in the air and a fan blows the wet over the dee edges of the threaded watercolor paper. So thick and wild like a woven coffee bag from Salvidor. Coffee beans are the only thing I can think of the reminds me such a perfect pongentness.

As my blood feels hot I open my bay window to let the cold 40-degree air in so my painter madness doesn’t get the best of my waiting in the drying game. Paint has its own timetable and we dry out waiting for it to make up its mind.

Painter Files Podcast ep 17

November 10, 2017 jawara318Leave a comment

There is this place in my mind where all these art history facts live and as I get older the facts are more about my art history and that excites me. It’s simple and beautiful and fun and hungry in a few ways.

I do wish I had done more with my brushes in my twenties.

I went on a trip.

November 2, 2017November 2, 2017 jawara318Leave a comment

I never imagined my life would feel so good after going to my hometown for a few days.

I was not born in Charlotte, NC but I grew up there. It was hard at times but the best friends I have known in my life are all over the world so this is the third chapter revisited.

Got’ta see my old buddy Ryan Wilson. It’s been around 12 years since we last got’ta into conversations. It was like we left off and started back up again the minute we saw each other. It is going to be one of my favorite memories for a long time. The best Halloween I have had in forever. To add to all of it I was graced by Ryan’s art on my leg. If you are in Charlotte, NC or close to NC go see Ryan for amazing tattoos. Divine Arts Tattoo is a lovely shop, reminds me a saloon.

painter Files – Inktober part 2

October 12, 2017 jawara318Leave a comment

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deep makings

October 11, 2017 jawara318Leave a comment

Fuck,

I’m a strong believer in curse words. It just feels like freedom. I love the word fuck. It is such an amazing word and conveys so much. I kind of want one day when people ask what my style of painting is fucking painting. I’m a fucking painter. I feel it in bones of my fingers that scream me awake at 3 AM as I wonder the hall in our condo with the cat.

Inktober 1-5 days

October 5, 2017October 5, 2017 jawara3181 Comment

I never really know how this will go. It has a power of being a lot of fun but at the same time because everyone is doing it so maybe it’s not special? I want to find a journey of growth in this. I always look for ways to grow and learn from making. I’m not sure what I am going to find in this.

Wisdom is always infront of you.

September 24, 2017September 24, 2017 jawara318Leave a comment

You grow older in the mist of a powerful painting. I remember being 10 when I picked up a brush for real for the first time. To make a thing and mean to see it alive was a hard and long journey. I felt like I was at the end of a hallway trying to get to the doorway where Piccaso was standing.