(We’re living in a golden age, a golden age, a golden age..)
Stomping along on this big Philip Johnson Is delay just wasting my time Looking across at Richard Rogers Scheming dreams to blow both their minds
It’s difficult you see To give up baby To leave a job When you know You know the money’s from day to day
All the majesty of a city landscape All the soaring days in our lives All the concrete dreams in my mind’s eye All the joy I see Thru these architect’s eyes
Cold winter bleeds on the girders of Babel This stone boy watching the crawling land Rings of flesh and the towers of iron The steaming caves and the rocks and the sand
Stomping along on this big Phillip Johnson Is delay just wasting my time It’s difficult you see To give up baby These summer scumholes This goddamned starving life
All the majesty of a city landscape All the soaring days in our lives All the concrete dreams in my mind’s eye All the joy I see Thru these architect’s eyes
actually the last image is the first one I made/found.
I was frustrated not pursuing what I thought I was; an artist. I was in the heart of a 25 year stint of clinical depression. One week I stretched a canvas and tried to paint. Since I had absolutely nothing in mind I found no direction, so in frustration I wiped as much of the oil paint off as I could so I might be able to use the canvas again.
But what happened was I sat back and looked at the mess and thought I “saw” something. The next day I found the image was still there and so I traced what I saw.
The painting just above is the result.
I made these 9 paintings over a 5 year period. The seventh painting above was the last I made with this method. I challenged myself to see if I could “find” something once more, one last time; the overall effort was too taxing to continue. At one point I had smeared and gazed and tried again on a single canvas many many times without finding a finished image that I thought I could bring to fruition. The paint got so thick on that canvas that I had to take it off the stretcher and start with new canvas.
So that fifth above was my final piece done this way. I was disappointed with it at the time because the entire right hand side contained nothing I could help to become something recognizable. I’m happy with it now. I find the female as butterfly beautiful as anything imaginable.
I went on to paint several which sprang up spontaneously. I would stretch a canvas (they’re all at least 4 feet by x) and finally after maybe months I would “feel” like painting. I only painted high once, the skill saw you’ll find somewhere in here: http://www.3nd2.com/paintings/ In those inventive ones I wasn’t drinking. That was in a 5 year stretch after I’d finally gotten on antidepressants and was free of capital D depression. Lower case depression still occurs but it’s nothing. Situational..
I’m 67 now, living in a trailer park making minimum wage in a part time job at a golf course. I’m making it but barely. I was a self taught signpainter for 25 years, all through the capital D years. Hated every second of it. Of course you know computers finally displaced me.
You’ll find other things on 3nd2 exhibiting other great ideas: I’d love not to drink my days away and be TheColoringCompanion for instance. I did what you’ll find there in a year and a half sober. I’d love to go back to that but I have never found traction. I have no followers, no likes etc. Could never afford to pay for SEOs.
Maybe this email will finally break the bank. Maybe YOU’LL see. I’d like to be found of value before I die so as to enjoy the fruits of this all. HURRY! lol
You’ll also notice I discovered the first alternative to the traditional golf swing. It works. But guess what: no takers. As with all else, I’ve tried.
