A valid question where the unpredictability of the times could just as easily pull the chair from under you as the 'rona, as I just read it being referred to today, gate crashes the party. I hope not. I am happily expecting to finally spend time with my son, as a year has gone by with no sighting. Interstate never seemed as unavailable as now. I look forward to walking, chatting and exploring this gorgeous part of the world, unmasked and free.
Head with Mask, oil on paper, 42 x 30cm
I have managed to tie off a few loose ends this year. I finished a novel that I have been writing for many years. It is based on two years of my life, in my early twenties that probably etched itself more deeply in my psyche than any other time, until the more recent disclosure. At the time, 1986, I was daring to try my hand as a painter, so unsure yet surer of nothing more. I had one encounter that could have derailed my ambition to be an artist for good, but as was to become a 'response' of mine, I painted the experience. A man, a poor stand in for a partner, ridiculed my efforts at drawing and tore up my sketches. I was probably twenty and living in the desert alone.
This episode is described in the story and in the recalling of it, I wanted to create a painting that spoke to that time from a place of reflection, wisdom and experience. I had continued to paint, I wanted to say to the younger, frightened young woman. The paper that is in A Ripping Scene is used instead as a letter, written to the 'love' that is lost. That time cannot be held by anyone, it ticks by regardless. We are tethered to the cycle of life, as the pencil draws the circle that constrains everyone of us. There is much in this painting, Acting with In Tent. The difference being, although the first incident took place after being dragged out of a tent, now I know there is nothing more important to being true to yourself, than acting with intent.
A Ripping Scene, oil on canvas, 80 x 100cm, 1996
Acting With Intent, oil on canvas, 91 x 91cm 2020