I need to get a bit better about updating this. One post a month shouldn't be too much. Suddenly it seems..I am comfortable working with oils. All the things I've been talking to myself about relentlessly aren't coming to mind right now. I may as well not be writing anything. But it's something in....writing to yourself, while allowing eaves droppers, not holding things off because of that, perhaps I am incoherent or perhaps that idea is just comforting. I've gotten really into shading, and believe that in the same way if you just draw anatomy from life over and over again it gets stuck in you well enough to produce- not from memory- but from knowledge- it's not recollecting HOW something looked, but WHY it looked that way and being able to use those coordinates for my own means. I know I did want to write; to tell other people, as though anyone would be interested in these constant often repetitive dialogues I carry on with myself- That in painting I am not interested in documentation. I do not care really to show you what I have seen, literally or visually. I want to paint things that I cannot see- but I can see people- but I paint people primarily probably because it is what I understand the least. I do not know what it is to be human, and I am tired and slightly panicy that people constantly throw down such passionate, convicted statements as regaurds it. But then I rise up too there, to be human is to be limited- but I do not always want to be human. I wonder why do my paintings look old, probably for some credential that the past owns and the present and the future must prove...but I do not feel I am doing something particularly new or that I care to- I cannot help but do something new, since I have not existed before, though I am doing this all again, it is also for the first time. I do want people to look at them and feel something that is presently living inside of themselves- this is just a communication- not me turning something on or implanting anything- it is relation and the viewer is the other necessary 1/2 of that process. It is a process we're involved with, and time probably doesn't even function as we experience it, so to freeze something, such as an image is, is actually a false comfort, that perhaps comforts in one area so that things may happen in another. The process of my work and the form (or the end result) must bare direct relationship with one another. I love the spontenaity of finding people in random brush strokes- it is almost like recognizing my self as a bag of flesh- as any other indistinguishable clump of matter sitting around- and this recognition becomes a distinction, but then right after that I again feel unfamiliar, that I again do not know what I am, how I am with others that apparently form a species and assumedly bare commonalities- and so defining these people, sitting with them after they have arrived, and possibly giving it time- maybe that is where layering comes in, or working on a painting with time in between- so that it is not all contained within an immediate reaction....or so that the immediate reaction may be combined with a prolonged and hesitant reconsideration. Hm, I'm not sure what I wrote exactly, but I put something down here and I guess I'll leave it as such. and continue.
