a landscape

another vase with flowers

the transformaiton of a painting

thought i would talk a little about the transformation of a painting, its evolution. I often start a painting in my mind many weeks before i put paint to canvas. Some people have a methodical almost ritualistic process they follow when painting. I would say that there are a few procedures that I follow with respect to the formation of the idea. Once i have an idea I visualize it with different colors and background and different depths.

seasons

as the temperature tonight drops below 10 degrees we are faced with prospect of autumn approaching. For many it is difficult time as old man winter is just around the corner. for me it is my favorite season with all the abundant colors on display. the air is much fresher, nit just from a temperate perspective, but from how it enters the body and feeds us. today as i drove around the country side i could smell wood burning and i was immediately transported back to my fathers garage where he burned wood while he worked on his antique cars. Smell being the major sense for memory recall, the image was so vivid that i might well have started to talk to my father if i had not jolted awake by a sudden closure in the road.

This idea of memory and smell being so directly associated had me pondering if there was a causal relationship between other mental functions or situations such as deja vu or memory loss.

if we could all paint

i am always on the look out for painters that can capture what i like to think of as the seance between landscape and impressionism. there is a balance of both i find in Peter Campbell's work. He deftly touches the trees with green and yellow only to draw more if it out with ochers. I like the balance that he displays in the demarcation of the fields. We at once believe we are close to the painting only to realize that the fields extend well beyond our touch. His play with the sky renders the painting all the more unattainable, for if it was blue we could all imagine it and forget analysing the painting. But his use of browns draws us in further, tempting us.

in between

i think i died a little bit more tonight. sometimes the silence in between words can take away your soul and everything you believe in....which is worse? If all that we believe to be true comes crashing down around us where are we supposed to turn. If we have faith in colors and sounds what are we left with when they turn out to be a mirage.

how do you pick up life when you have stopped living it, when you have been caught in the rapture, the belief that there is something special where do you turn, should you have turned earlier in life. the choices we make all end up costing us something. It is just that we are unaware what that cost is and most often we are oblivious to it for some time. think of the people that you have hurt and where they are now, would you change anything in your life, would you turn the other cheek.

I am not one for leaving questions unanswered on the table so i say; i would never lose faith in colors i would always look to the sky, sounds are the most important measure we have. the coo of a baby, the moan of a lover; i do not believe in mirages i trust what i see; i do not stop living, i live each day as it is my last; this rapture is just, just something inexplicable; there are no regrets only memories; yes our choices cost us something; i would not have missed this, i am glad i am living this out; there is only one way to face things and that is head on.

i am sorry for having written this