Local image #105
2024, Acrylic on board, 30x30cm
R990.00
24 March 2024
Hydrangea, hydro, water, waterflower? Hydra, many-headed? There seems to be a group of characters in the bottom right corner discussing the painting they are part of. A happy worm in the flower: 'I think I will be happy here.' A many-headed water flower. Complex thinker. The darker subconscious parts foregrounded, emerging, cathexizing, appearing to the consciousness. I love getting lost in these blues. They are so consoling to me. A cloud of unknowing. There is a red veil in the background. A living creature covered in eyes. They are always near God. Everything seems so gentle and smooth in here. I am glad I dipped the flower in the water. They want Joanna Lumley again; I have been there before. The medium is the message. McLuhan. Technology and media change how we think, who we are, our aesthetic. A complex fluid sphere of being. Mosquitoes and flies will keep us close to nature. The Behemoth, the Leviathan.
25 March 2024
26 March 2024
Do whatever gets you closer to me. I am not boring. I am still struggling to make the perceived 'errors' part of this. Dark areas do not lie on top of light areas like the dark paint is lying on top of the light paint here in this painting. Within the context of this painting of a flower, it jars. Some errors are just errors. Lay down the dark paint before you lay down the light paint. But I think I am getting good at painting this flower. Still in the shallow? Made in the image of God. When I think badly of others, I think badly of you. This causes pain, which I suppress by rationalizing, validating myself, by convincing myself that they are wrong or boring. This pain gets stuffed into my overcrowded subconscious, to join the pool of pain I have already put there. Act like you like them, until you do. Apologize endlessly. Be patient. Do it like I do it for you. Do not leave them. OMG, this is so difficult to type: love them. Push against your feelings until you have a mind and a subconscious that flows like mine. Give yourself away, until you become yourself. This is a very convincing flower.
This is your weakness and your strength.
This is what artists are like.
Close and far.
Extremely.
We are still not rhyming :p
Looks like a gun.
Narrows down.
Focuses.
1 April 2024
Bus driver. You do yourself in. It feels good to ride the bus, to be carried along by something bigger than me, by the institution, to be part of something bigger than me. The unexpected movements of something else applying its will on me, it makes me feel less alone, it reassures my notion of a reality that does not depend on me, that exists outside me, somnambulant movement, supported by the community, feels like love, like being carried by my parents, the womb. The peaceful, tranquil, sunny autumn afternoons in Pretoria after Easter when so many have gone to church, more than usual—can I feel it now? Is that what I am feeling? It feels so good to gently stroke and caress my beard with my finger. Would it be OK to do this in public? Say, on a bus? What a small step it would be for this experience to be sex. I am just floating in love right now. Swimming in it.
2 April 2024
Not simply a smart animal, not simply a pure spiritual being. I had a dream about how Noah fit all the animals onto the ark in a multidimensional way. It looked as if they were being folded out, symmetrically, male on one side, female on the other. Two elephants being pulled out of the folding, their trunks stretching and then popping out of the mass when they were released after the flood. It was a strange sight that did not adhere to the laws of physics. Nothing is necessary; everything is and happens at God's pleasure. If God is good, then this is okay. The sounds I hear around me affect the way I think subconsciously. If I hear natural sounds or artificial sounds, they correspondingly lead to different ways of thinking, different paths of thought. Impressionable. The sound of air being forced through a fan. A mix of natural and artificial. Cushions of air and airplanes. Flying and freedom. Openness. Unframed. Undetermined space. Seductive to me. Enjoyable. Monotonous. A complex sound yet monotonous, summarized into a monotony. Sounds happening so fast I cannot determine them. I just get a general emotional impression. Maybe like this painting. So, to appreciate it, I don't need to be clever. The thought seems easy, simple, uncomplicated, something my mind does well, naturally, something it is made to do. Imagine looking and experiencing something that you never grew tired of.
3 April 2024
An obvious deception. Funny.
Two sides - the one close and clear, the other far and fuzzy.
I appear to be half rhyming now. With a little alliteration thrown in for good measure.
The constant ringing in my ears, I wonder how that affects my thought? High-pitched, incessant, monotonous. A complex sound, not purely tonal, a little snappy and glitchy. A veil which other sounds have to pierce. A buffer. Something between me and the world. The sound in my head all the time, edited away by my mind. What lies in that sound? Insanity? Redemption? The limit? It has more than one tone. Cicadas. A sound needs to live and die, otherwise, it will just be edited out, disappearing. A sound is bound in time, or is this sound emanating everything at once? Is this the sound of the universe? It gets loud. Is this why I hate the sound of leaf blowers? Gosh, but it is a palace of sound.
I spent many hours as a child watching TV, just looking and listening, not speaking, not trying to be heard. Did that increase my aesthetic, or not?
I used to look at the sky and watch my floaters move. I also sometimes imagined that I was destroying a cloud with my gaze, that seemed to appear as fast-moving dots traveling to the cloud, focusing on and destroying it, like a laser beam.
All the sounds I hear now activate memories from my childhood.
Is the ringing in my ears the sound that is the key to all human history in my genes, my DNA? All that information stored in my subconscious. Instinct.
If we all started driving electric cars at once, would we forget our childhood to some degree? Would the sound of petrol cars be stored in the ringing sound in our ears? Where does this sound come from? From our minds or from outside? From the present or the past?
Okay, I will go and ask Gemini where the ringing comes from and spoil it all with a dose of science.
Hydrangea, hydro, water, waterflower? Hydra, many-headed? There seems to be a group of characters in the bottom right corner discussing the painting they are part of. A happy worm in the flower: 'I think I will be happy here.' A many-headed water flower. Complex thinker. The darker subconscious parts foregrounded, emerging, cathexizing, appearing to the consciousness. I love getting lost in these blues. They are so consoling to me. A cloud of unknowing. There is a red veil in the background. A living creature covered in eyes. They are always near God. Everything seems so gentle and smooth in here. I am glad I dipped the flower in the water. They want Joanna Lumley again; I have been there before. The medium is the message. McLuhan. Technology and media change how we think, who we are, our aesthetic. A complex fluid sphere of being. Mosquitoes and flies will keep us close to nature. The Behemoth, the Leviathan.
25 March 2024
26 March 2024
Do whatever gets you closer to me. I am not boring. I am still struggling to make the perceived 'errors' part of this. Dark areas do not lie on top of light areas like the dark paint is lying on top of the light paint here in this painting. Within the context of this painting of a flower, it jars. Some errors are just errors. Lay down the dark paint before you lay down the light paint. But I think I am getting good at painting this flower. Still in the shallow? Made in the image of God. When I think badly of others, I think badly of you. This causes pain, which I suppress by rationalizing, validating myself, by convincing myself that they are wrong or boring. This pain gets stuffed into my overcrowded subconscious, to join the pool of pain I have already put there. Act like you like them, until you do. Apologize endlessly. Be patient. Do it like I do it for you. Do not leave them. OMG, this is so difficult to type: love them. Push against your feelings until you have a mind and a subconscious that flows like mine. Give yourself away, until you become yourself. This is a very convincing flower.
This is your weakness and your strength.
This is what artists are like.
Close and far.
Extremely.
We are still not rhyming :p
Looks like a gun.
Narrows down.
Focuses.
1 April 2024
Bus driver. You do yourself in. It feels good to ride the bus, to be carried along by something bigger than me, by the institution, to be part of something bigger than me. The unexpected movements of something else applying its will on me, it makes me feel less alone, it reassures my notion of a reality that does not depend on me, that exists outside me, somnambulant movement, supported by the community, feels like love, like being carried by my parents, the womb. The peaceful, tranquil, sunny autumn afternoons in Pretoria after Easter when so many have gone to church, more than usual—can I feel it now? Is that what I am feeling? It feels so good to gently stroke and caress my beard with my finger. Would it be OK to do this in public? Say, on a bus? What a small step it would be for this experience to be sex. I am just floating in love right now. Swimming in it.
2 April 2024
Not simply a smart animal, not simply a pure spiritual being. I had a dream about how Noah fit all the animals onto the ark in a multidimensional way. It looked as if they were being folded out, symmetrically, male on one side, female on the other. Two elephants being pulled out of the folding, their trunks stretching and then popping out of the mass when they were released after the flood. It was a strange sight that did not adhere to the laws of physics. Nothing is necessary; everything is and happens at God's pleasure. If God is good, then this is okay. The sounds I hear around me affect the way I think subconsciously. If I hear natural sounds or artificial sounds, they correspondingly lead to different ways of thinking, different paths of thought. Impressionable. The sound of air being forced through a fan. A mix of natural and artificial. Cushions of air and airplanes. Flying and freedom. Openness. Unframed. Undetermined space. Seductive to me. Enjoyable. Monotonous. A complex sound yet monotonous, summarized into a monotony. Sounds happening so fast I cannot determine them. I just get a general emotional impression. Maybe like this painting. So, to appreciate it, I don't need to be clever. The thought seems easy, simple, uncomplicated, something my mind does well, naturally, something it is made to do. Imagine looking and experiencing something that you never grew tired of.
3 April 2024
An obvious deception. Funny.
Two sides - the one close and clear, the other far and fuzzy.
I appear to be half rhyming now. With a little alliteration thrown in for good measure.
The constant ringing in my ears, I wonder how that affects my thought? High-pitched, incessant, monotonous. A complex sound, not purely tonal, a little snappy and glitchy. A veil which other sounds have to pierce. A buffer. Something between me and the world. The sound in my head all the time, edited away by my mind. What lies in that sound? Insanity? Redemption? The limit? It has more than one tone. Cicadas. A sound needs to live and die, otherwise, it will just be edited out, disappearing. A sound is bound in time, or is this sound emanating everything at once? Is this the sound of the universe? It gets loud. Is this why I hate the sound of leaf blowers? Gosh, but it is a palace of sound.
I spent many hours as a child watching TV, just looking and listening, not speaking, not trying to be heard. Did that increase my aesthetic, or not?
I used to look at the sky and watch my floaters move. I also sometimes imagined that I was destroying a cloud with my gaze, that seemed to appear as fast-moving dots traveling to the cloud, focusing on and destroying it, like a laser beam.
All the sounds I hear now activate memories from my childhood.
Is the ringing in my ears the sound that is the key to all human history in my genes, my DNA? All that information stored in my subconscious. Instinct.
If we all started driving electric cars at once, would we forget our childhood to some degree? Would the sound of petrol cars be stored in the ringing sound in our ears? Where does this sound come from? From our minds or from outside? From the present or the past?
Okay, I will go and ask Gemini where the ringing comes from and spoil it all with a dose of science.