vendredi 7 août 2009

The day before... first show EVER, I feel stressed, anxious, but blessed too because now I begin to understand the meaning of all this.

I've been painting since I was 17 (I'm 36 now). It came all of a sudden, urgently, like something I've been keeping inside since I was born (and before that, I'm sure). Something that waited patiently inside of me, making me draw restlessly (I knew how to draw before writing), untill that day.

What day? I still have to figure it out, it'll take a lot of work, maybe a therapy to understand what I've been hosting inside.

I've never take lessons, never accorded any particular attention to Art (even if I know artists, but it's more general knowledge). Sometimes I'm learning a technique while observing a ray of light on a tree, an expression on a face, sometimes it just comes out like that.

I've learned anatomy basis at school, but it was more like something boring I had to do then something I felt the urge to learn. and I can't really say if it helped me, because I used to observe a lot (people thought I was a freak as I spent my time staring at them).

So, here I am, still totally uncertain of what is gonna happen to me tomorrow night (exhibition show), will there be a lot of people? Those people who I should call "friends" event tho I'm pretty positive about the fact that I don't have any. Will they like what they see? Will they wanna buy something? And on and on, annoying and anxious questions that 've been turning around and around in my head for about a month now.

That leads us to my first phrase...I begin to understand the meaning of all this...

Since I became a painter (or moved from the state of teen-who-draws-because-she's-bored to the state of adult-who-tries-to-paint-for-recognition), the same strange feeling came to me while I was laying the brush down to the canvas. The feeling that was NOT me doing that, NOT me mixing the colors to obtain the "perfect" one, NOT me painting like crazy till 2 am. And that feeling was still there the morning after, as I contemplated the result with incredulous sleepy eyes.

So what? Schizophrenia? Drugs? (I used to smoke pot while painting), what?

All my paintings have the same essence, and I'm beginning to think this essence is divine...What do you think?

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