The Process

I'm trying to paint. I had a vague idea on what I wanted to depict – so vague that it's almost like a memory of a dream, or something like Holdstock's mythagos (which you can only see through the corner of your eye, but never when looking directly). Vague...

So when I was trying to sit down and really think about it, and get some sketches down before attacking the canvas with paints and brushes, suddenly all I got was pieces and and details to a story. Or a world. Or something. I have long ago given up the aspiration that some day I would be a writer, but if I did have the persistence and the talent for it, there's a huge world inside my head; although most of it is unexplored and details of which just inconsistently (and unbidden) pop into my head in ready pieces. It's kind of frustrating, to get all this enticing material, and have nothing to put it into. (Although, to be fair, some of them have translated to some odd paintings in the past.)

Anyway, trying to paint this elusive picture without a sketch feels like excavating, rather than creating. I've painted several layers, some with more form than others – none of which have worked, but at the same time I feel like if I persist and keep working, it might eventually build up to something. It's like... un-erosion. Except that right now, it just looks ugly, and angry. Furious.

Obviously, my subconscious has something to tell me.

No comments: