I haven't blogged yet. And while there are a variety of pointless excuses for this, in reality it's because I often feel that words are my enemy. I can use them, manipulate them, choose superb specimens as an end to a means, and turn a nice phrase, but none of this matters because the WORD, language itself, is the nemesis of the image.
I communicate through images, they tell my stories whether it be tattooed on my hands or painted on a piece of wood. I often want to give language to the image, but the words do not come. The words laugh at me and tell me to keep my eyes closed and then I might understand better how to transform visual into aural.
It's not a dance, it's a duel.
Somehow I am still possessed of this idea to write accompaniments to my paintings, even though I truly believe the paintings should tell their stories without needing words.
Maybe I need the words. The WORD, to unlock all the stories in a single gush from my fingertips. Or maybe more like a flood of tears.
I could be afraid of the words because they are not as aesthetically pleasing to my mind as the images.
The sound of a woman wailing is the saddest thing you can hear.
I think sometimes if I let the words come they will only be a formless wail announcing to anyone who can hear all of my sadness and I don't really want any of you to know about that.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Looking at Jan Lievens' paintings from around 1631 it's interesting to wonder what was going on. Lievens was a contemporary to Rembrandt and some have confused the two over the years. I've been studying a few of his paintings and creating them anew through my eyes. My interpretation of "Boy in a Cape and Turban" above, depicts a milky faced youth, stuffed and stiff as nails, with all the pomp and circumstance of his exotic "Oriental" attire. Lievens spared no detail in his depiction of clothing and also the psychology that was going on with the subjects of his time.