emotional frustrationinability to vocalize or express
wanting to scream punch break things...
How did I arrive here from a childhood memory of flowers and the smell of grass, lemons and the past?
Ever just feel like that, like you are going to explode out of your skin and nothing you do makes this intensity any better. A burning that suddenly rises up beneath your skin, clenching your heart, your jaw, your hands into fist, your eyes into raptors.
A voice inside howls, I REQUIRE FORCE! Friction! Agitation! Eruption! Maelstrom.
Only painting helps. Only hands to paper and brush, drawing reds and blues across canvass. Sculpting. Pressing. Kneading. Releasing.
Days like this drive me to the brink of insanity and then I paint, and then release.
My mother said that one of the first things she taught me when I was a kid was to express my emotional self through art. If I grew frustrated, angry or upset and I couldn't find the words for it I would sit at the table and paint or draw, in some fashion visually express myself.
It worked then. It works now. Taking home a 30 x 30 canvass. I feel a face coming out of a snow blind whiteness, out of paper, out of me.
Let's see what that looks like.
- Art 160: Self-Portrait, Final Critique, and the End of the Semester (simianworks.wordpress.com)
- William Boyd on Mark Rothko and the play Red/ The Guardian (megganmiller.wordpress.com)
- Fire in the Head (patheos.com)
- Year of the Lovers: Expanded Daily Tarot - Sept 27, 2013 (thesacredother.com)