Thursday, September 18, 2008

And they said....

When I reached the top of the stairs the door was open so I walked on in. I had a couple of bottles of wine and some crackers and cheese for dinner. I also had about three gallons of paint with me in the other hand and some new brushes.

The studio was full of people, the musicians who rent the back room and have built a recording studio were up and were going to be there for a late night jam sessions. They said my music would not disturb them. I said fine. Their being there was kind of annoying because it meant I couldn't strip down completely to paint but finally they all went to the backroom so I was at least able to change into something more paint worthy.

Paper stared at me, and I stared back.

The theme was slow in coming but it did come eventually and so I started to work on it. Words a collection of words from different people. The words became real and the real became the colors leaving my hands and imprinting on the paper. I asked for words and I thought of words. Psyche came to mind and she said herself, to think, to be, and so I breath life into color and color into Psyches word on paper. I think of myself and who I fixate on the most, the inspiration for my madness, I think a word Escape and so I bring it to life and let it flow over and under me and through my bones until I escape out of the colors and the mash up.

I sit with Ramon in the bar and we talk about a number of things, I ask him for a word and he says Transiency so I look at the paper and I will it into being, I find color and a muse it together, fusion, and fuck up, and freedom, and change, it all goes on the paper and comes out changed.

I asked around in the bar and Tom says Jesus, then he changes his mind, then he says, no, Jesus, and so I think about Jesus and suddenly the paper is alive with this word. Why Jesus, because it is the word that pops into being the start of so many problems, the answer for the problems of so many others. I think of my gods and their gods and I wonder about which gods will duke it out in the end to find their own personal Jesus. The thought of a god with a personal Jesus amuses.

Marla thinks on her word and her word is empty and so I grab colors and think, I can do empty, nothing, nowhere, here is empty, empty is when it call comes out, and there on the paper is a mass, a wall, and there is nothing but emptiness. John looks at the words and he says Mourn, and so I paint the loss, I paint to lose, I paint for the sadness and the lack and of all the pieces I put together it comes out the most violent and random. I look at the pictures today and think that it is not done yet. I will need to revise that word a bit more.

In all I have six words from six people, and I still want more.

If you had your word as a living representative, what would your word be?

*pictures will come but I have to get my camera fixed and my cell phone does not do great pictures of art.

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