Film Image #94

24 April 2025

No pattern—or little pattern. Vague, undetermined, or with little determination. Repeated patterns with fuzzy edges that create an overall impression of desert earth, rock, misty motes... non-descript texture in mocha mousse.

I like this colour. There’s something soothing and calming about it. Very easy on my eyes—it makes them relax, like a soothing balm. It doesn’t make me feel hot or cold, but warm: a reassuring, comforting background presence.

I am in a cave with floating, misty motes swirling around. Somehow there is water here—even in the absence of blue. I honestly wouldn’t mind a large one of these hanging somewhere. I’m surprised, because blue is my favourite colour.

Some primitive part of me has an affinity for this colour. A clean earth. Unpolluted. Island beach sand—or Natal coast beach sand, I think that’s it. I used to spend childhood holidays on the Natal coast. The beautiful, clean coast as it was back then. Rock pools filled with tiny fish and sea anemones. No foul smells. The whitest foam. Gosh—glimpses of happiness there. In nature, with nature, one with nature. Clean, immaculate nature.

Why are we buggering that up?

I would find it extremely funny if someone were to hold up a Pantone swatch to this painting and declare, in a very serious manner: “This is not Mocha Mousse!”

There is a disembodied blue eye floating around in this one. Schizophrenics paint disembodied eyes. Maybe Jameson is right about my postmodern condition.

Hail and fire fall from the sky upon two soldiers sitting back-to-back on the bottom border. A nuclear column of smoke, fire, and dust rages upward and expands outward as the soldiers stare at their doom. The sublime nuclear wave.

I was going to continue this painting, but now that I’ve contemplated it, I want to keep it as it is. I was already in the last ten minutes.