octubre 22, 2011

Secret meaning behind things

Fact is there is one painting that I haven’t published on the internet yet it hangs on the stairs’ wall of my parents house where I’m currently in taking care of moka and shakti while my parents are out.
I had deemed this as a condescending painting wherein I tried to use bright colors for the sake of doing something ‘cheerful’ to hand in such a visible spot.
Instead, I ended up creating a semi-abstract painting that I could call ‘the fall of man. There is indeed a man hanging upside down and the entire construction of space and time defined by a sphere-like object with the infinity symbol trapped in a vertical way, almost like one of those sand clocks that will eventually run out of grains to keep the track of time.
There’s a human character, someone that just appeared there with a very prominent chin – fuck knows I mean maybe courbet’s beard on his goodmorning monsier Courbet painting inspired such deformity. Anyways – the point is… there’s a hand as well, it was supposed to be a nice painting with something nice to say: it didn’t happen.
This is only one of several examples of how I tried ‘my work’ to be cheerful and eventually ending up with some twisted message along the brightness of such lines.
Does this matter in any way to ‘who I am’ – other than a personality definition of being bleak, no. It only reveals how within art and my expression I haven’t been able to kid myself as easily as I do in real life. I cannot paint shit that I will later realize I was only high on a pipe dream – whenever I did that, it was mostly related to some form of spiritual greatness but never ending on a false sense of ‘glee’. Even an open painting I made of someone smiling decorated the walls of my friends’ wall, a self destructive, self obsessed and depressed man that certainly reflected me back to myself which is how we became friends In the first place. I had painted that happy face withholding thoughts of some ‘bright future’ with someone.
You should see my bookshelf, I just reviewed it this morning. Maybe it’s because my parents don’t know English and trusted me enough to be mature enough to read all of that, but I would’ve taken my son/ daughter to have some pro-chat to investigate such preferences for books – one can only read the titles to get an idea of what I was all about back in the day.
I was shaped by music, books and a great sense of humor from my parents.
Oddly enough I could not seem to conciliate my apparent ‘stability’ when crossreferencing it with the reality that I saw. There was something wrong going on.

This is only but an observation amongst the entire woven patterns as the person I call myself. I am not any of that and giving it all good riddance is for the sake of my own self-realization devoid of any memories, any preferences, any fixations, any personal trivial data that I have cherished as if it had any meaning, including this blog wherein for some reason I am not trying to be talking to someone specifically other than myself, writing the same way I would write to myself in my handwritten diary  - although this will go out ‘in the open’ No problem on that as I cannot fear or want things to be another way. Principles over preferences.
Secret meaning is: there is NO secret meaning, there are only patterns we have to eradicate as 'who we are' to end-this-lie and actually live and express here. 

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