Well it’s been a long ass time since we’ve seen each other on here. Great weather kills all urges for me to touch my computer. I feel like I’m a kid again enjoying my time after school with my crew at the park. I think my studio is haunted. My daily choices are “Go outside in the sun and have wine and great food?” or “Go paint in the windowless concrete room with my new ectoplasmic roommate?”. I’ve thought a lot about how I’ve changed since my time in Montreal. The days where I used to write one insecurely arrogant post everyday. Attention starved rambles of a young painter. Old me never took much time to just sit and reflect on what I was creating and why. I knew but I didn’t know enough. There was also the constant urge to prove something to the reader. Beating my chest while pissing in the wind seemed like a great way to do so. We’ll call it a lot of overcompensating to keep it simple. Call me Skynet because I’m becoming more self aware.
Remember the portrait I did of my nameless studio mate? This is it now. I craved something different and couldn’t deny myself from having it. A portrait is not a documentation of the subject. It’s the artist’s emotional response to that person. I can’t hide how I feel. Painting him over and over trying to convey some beauty was driving me mad. We don’t see the same. Continuing on would be blinding myself. It’s not a secret that our relationship is “off”. Why waste my time trying to finish a horrible book? Instead of getting rid of the book, I decided to edit it with my arts and craft supplies to make it obvious for anyone else who decides to read it what the story actually is. That’s how I feel and there is no obligation for me to make it sugar, spice, and everything nice.
Two more Bruts are done. I keep the very first one covered up behind me until I’ve completed the current set. Only when they’re done do I unveil it and see how they’ve evolved. They breathe easier and have more confidence. I get moments where I wonder how they’d turn out if they were made while I was in school. If I had teacher’s visiting me every week for a chatting session. What would happen? These are purely my own creation. A few words from another can make the hand move for days. It’s all natural gluten free Cabba. What starts off as a pond slowly forms streams and then turns into a roaring river. It’s all about momentum.
Maybe you expected this to be much longer than usual since it’s been a while. I thought I’d ramble on more as well. There are somethings you’re supposed to know and somethings you’re supposed to figure out on your own. You’re a strong independent person with a head that works. I don’t need to hold your hand. If I did, I’d get paint all over you.