Let me take you on a journey through a fantasy land, where anything is possible, where dreams do sometimes come through, where at times hearts are broken and at other times tears of joy are wept. The creation of a work of pure, unadulterated magic, a work of art, a painting.
When I am painting, I do not think in words and sentences, above all else I feel intensely and I go into a trance, where time has no meaning. The goal is to make what is on the canvas correspond with what I see in my mind’s eye. And ever to watch for the light, for it is everything: how it reflects, how it radiates, how it takes on its neighbours hue.
Making art is hardly ever a joy, it involves the pain of birth, but while you are in this process, you no longer feel blood running through your veins, but molten lava and the air inhibiting your lungs, slowly dissipates into the rest of your body and leaves you in a quite heady state, almost as if inebriated. You are always judging, whether it be distances, colours, angles or planes, contrasts of light and dark. You pray to all the gods you know, and then some, to please let it come out the way you long for, yearn for, would die for!
When I’m painting, I give of my life-force, which flows through my arm into my hand and through the brush into the paint, transforming the depicted image into a living, breathing being. My painting is in a very real sense one of my children!
The object of any work of art is to draw an emotion from the spectator. Whenever a painting is viewed, some of the emotional charge of the viewer is added to its life-force. It is in the interaction between art and its audience that magic evolves, when a connection is made between the spirit of its creator and the psyches of the observers. Why is a picture better than a thousand words? Because it connects your soul to the soul of the painter!
Painting is more than a passion, it is your very reason for being, your own special way of communicating with the universe and with your brothers and sisters. You feel an urgency to share your vision, to let others experience the wonder and the beauty of it all, but you hardly ever can, for you are your own worst critic. But furtunately, once in a very long while, it all just flows the way it should and then you sink to your knees and bless the whole world and everyone in it, for letting you be alive that day and for being able to witness this moment of excruciating bliss.
I do hope that the flame does not die, for then all would be lost. Without my passion for creating, either on canvas or on paper(writing), I am but a withered husk or a pale shadow of what my potential bids me be, orders me be! Time away from my art, is time misspent, wasted and lost forever. Oh Mother of the Universe, grant me my wish to do what I was put on this planet to do!
I shall give you a few examples:
1. Can you not feel Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec’s yearning and passion?
2. Can you not feel Kaethe Kolwitz’s despair over the loss of her beloved son in World War I?
3. Is El Greco’s devotion not palpable?
4. Is Piet Mondriaen’s disconnection from the social world not obvious?