Always making
Grande parte de mim está cansado. (Much of me is tired.)Living as a painter is insane but I yearn for it.As I become more and more into my work I take off my shoes. Creativity feels like making wine, you will be covered up to your knees and it may stain you. It is rich and earthy.
Just letting go to float in the ocean of my mind and let the colors color.
I just love making art. Its very simple. No magical answer. We are drawn to our passions. We are the pen point of focus and in that I feel at home. The world drafts away and I feel chingon.
I remember saying years back that silly strange sentence. I can say it in a few languages. It makes less sense in Portuguese.
I can’t tell you how it came out the first time. I was painting and it felt like a Dali quote. Maybe I will be the next Dali.
I remember the first time I saw myself as a painter. I was in a famous black professor of art’s studio. He took me under his wing. I’m not sure if he thought of it that way but I was swept up in the magic  of the smells of his studio. Charles Rogers changed my life I those moments of simply saying “do you think it is done? Are you sure you feel done? Give me another hour of that painting.” It drove me to madness and in that madness I found my style. Now when I paint I search inside for the madness to lead me. The colors are the wild beast screaming just under me heart and fingers. They are a pipeline to restfulness. I can always tell a “real” painter from a talker of art because that madness is a drug I crave and it leave a look in the eyes. A hunger that needs more then food and sleep and sex. Honestly until my Alec nothing but the madness gave peace and rest. She saved me from me. I have to push my self to the edge of madness with the brush and her heart beat is my anchor.
jaws_blake 