A week or two ago I spent a weekend exploring some color combinations that I have not tried before. I came across this light yellow green and it really grabbed me as a soft background color with a restful, meditative feel to it.
I subsequently played my way through two paintings. The one below is an imagined still life – think of it as an abstract that looks like a still life! The other is a reworked landscape.
The landscape below was painted over one of my earlier favorites. You can still see the road in the foreground (mainly untouched), and traces of the hill on the left also come through.
I have just started reading Fernando Pesoa’s Book of Disquiet. In the foreword I find this quote from the book. I wonder if this applies to my painting sometimes…”my paintings are my cowardice”. Stupendous life rolls forth.
I’m astounded whenever I finish something. Astounded and distressed. My perfectionist instinct should inhibit me from finishing; it should inhibit me from even beginning. But I get distracted and start doing something. What I achieve is not the product of an act of my will but of my will’s surrender. I begin because I don’t have the strength to think; I finish because I don’t have the courage to quit. This book is my cowardice.
One of my much loves poems by Ezra Pound, which I quoted already in an earlier post:
And the Days are Not Full Enough And the days are not full enough And the nights are not full enough And life slips by like a field mouse Not shaking the grass. Ezra Pound
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