I fall in love with paintings I’m working on. I’ve fallen hard for this one, which is a good thing because it will most likely only be done when I’m sick of it. Hasn’t happened yet…but one day it will.
tomorrow I’ll fix it….or maybe I’ll venture out seeking supplies. I’m sure I need some.
There is something about a box… but, more especially, one that suddenly strikes the eye, causing one to pause. What’s in there? Is it a treasure??? Surely it must be because logic (even bad logic) dictates that someone created that box, or bought it to store away items that, at a minimum, had some value, even if only intrinsic. I create boxes to entice the viewer…..a box that beckons. Screaming, actually, to be opened. As it turns out, the box is just a device….I could have painted a canvas….but the box reveals the story in two parts. I’m working on a box, the working title of which is “The Jihad Box.”
I have nothing to say about this…really? Why am I writing anyway? Do I feel compelled to say something about the narrative here? No. I’ll just leave it to the viewer.