#123 Tuesday, July 30th

Be patient. That’s right, and I do aspire to be more so. However, lack of the afore-mentioned attribute is why I use acrylic paint. Bang and back in. But at times it still tests my limited faculty for patience. I just need to go-go go and then it’s a mess . . . scrape it down, sit on my hands and wait. Remarkably the remnants of these frantic endeavors offer an open window, a fresh breeze, a respite from the need to continually clutter, and I settle down to the business at hand. A path cut through the brush ignoring the cuts, scrapes, and bites inflicted, toward . . . Open. Fluid. Etherial. All against my nature. But getting close.

The inquiry . . . “What does this shape, color, line mean”? Well  I’m not a dictionary, a thesaurus maybe (I’ll leave that quandary for a future post) . . . so the best I can do . . . they are metaphors, similes, synonyms, adjectives, nouns, dreams, mysteries, enigmas, a past or future of who and what I/you/us are . The only thing I’m one hundred percent positive about, the paintings are of the earth. They begin within my devotion of the natural realm and end, well you decide. That’s the point. The journey. I’m not telling you where to go, what to think, feel, or say. It’s my goal to offer a certain kind of portal into the world, and welcome you to it.

Thank you for reading.

Charles

What’s in play  . . . fun tunes for a hot summer . . .