Mood:
smellyTopic: art in progress
In my current painting "Cinderella" I put scarlet red and royal blue in the darkest dark places of shadow.
Before I went to sleep I felt like I would burst. So much energy. I was high off of being bold with color. And my experiment worked. It worked. Mike said the picture is starting to look sharp and clear. He doesn't know how this is happening in technical terms, just that it seems so. Have to put the painting away to dry today, been looking at it too much. Don't want to smudge or blend those brilliant shadow colors.
The scary part is that I'm all alone with my art. No teacher or mentor or professional to look to and share with. It almsot feels maddening being so alone, so daring, and so touched to the very core of my being. A strong statement to make, how putting dabs of paint on canvass can put me on my knees. Silly artist. Why so intense?
There was a story once told in my college religion class many many years ago. If an ignorant peasant worships a stone as if it were a God, is this a religion of one? With the potential to be as powerful as any other conventional religion? For some reason I always imagine a Russian peasant down on his knees in the Siberian Stepp in front of a small stone in the dirt. This stone, it is less than ten inches in diameter. The peasant is focused and praying to his stone. That is my picture of ridiculous. All that will, belief and hope placed on something so small and ordinary. How many stones do we pass every day that are less than ten inches wide? Why did the peasant pick this one stone, and what good, what blessings, can the ordinary stone ever bring the peasant?
I was the Russian peasant yesterday with my red and blue strokes of paint.
