You know, the real world, this so-called real world is just something you put up with, like everybody else. I’m in my element when I’m a little bit out of this world; then I’m in the real world–I’m on the beam. Because when I’m falling, I’m doing all right; when I’m slipping, I say: “Hey, this is interesting!” It’s when I’m standing upright that bothers me: I’m not doing so good, I’m stiff. As a matter of fact, I’m really slipping most of the time, into that glimpse. I’m like a slipping glimpser.
It seems that you have to be rather innocent; if you are too advanced or learned, you won’t be able to paint. I mean, didn’t Baudelaire say you have to be a little stupid to sit around writing poetry all the time, no?
Willem De Kooning
I was fortunate to spend four hours in a TAKS testing room today, followed by three afternoon classes. Again, I came home, wiped out. But I’ve been poring over some Andrew Wyeth books filled with drybrush illustrations. Taking the De Kooning dictum seriously, I decided that I wanted to launch into another direction, and I broke my own rule about not painting when fatigued. I at least set up another still life in my Man Cave, drew out the composition, and laid down some broad washes to get a sense of what I want to do next. I want to go after another Andrew Wyeth “look” of a dramatically darkened composition with something catching the light in the midst. I have had this antique pail of pine cones sitting at my feet for over a year, and have painted them twice outdoors, beneath the trunk of a tree, but now I wish to place them at the bottom of a darkened door, and see if I can make something attractive out of them.
I am barely underway. Once again, I’m having trouble darkening this bright white D’Arches watercolor paper. It’s going to require some working and re-working.
I’m exhausted to the bone and need to retire to bed early so I can be somewhat fresh to go after another horrid testing day tomorrow.
Thanks for reading.