So... where was I? Oh yes, last week I put Darth vader to one side as I just can't seem to conquer him right now and picked up my 'propaganda posters', which I also didn't finish. They are now currently all pegged on a washing line across my studio, staring at me accusingly. My back is to them when I paint. It's slightly un-nerving turning my back on eight versions of myself, but they all look so devoted to the cause that it's even more unnerving to look straight at them. The consequence of this is they are encouraging me to paint even when I am not in the mood.
|Wisteria which has just burst into flower right outside my window|
|Artichoke Field just around the corner from our house|
Easter Sunday, the dress changes from black to white. These chaps with the pointy hats are called penitentes - they are those who are doing penance for their sins. They wear the pointed hats to hide their identity.
So I ask myself - why am I painting myself? I hate myself. I suffer from a crippling low self esteem and I can't think of anything worse that to look at myself in depth. I realise though, that the answer is really quite simple - it is a question of existence. It's the spirit trying to show a body that it exists. Personally, for me, I get the feeling that this is a very serious stage in my development as both a human being and an artist, so I have to nurture it and give it the attention it needs. I can't turn my back on this requirement. I need to look at myself and draw a representation, whether it be true or fanciful. Maybe its all about finding myself so that I can do the other botanical works that my head wants to do. Maybe this is all part of the journey and I can't cross to the far shore until I have done this excruciating work on myself.
|Popular trees just starting to come out into leaf at the beginning of last week|
|Selfie - a work in progress|