Posts Tagged ‘watercolors’

We’re only 20 once, and looking back, I understand why they say it’s one of the best time of your life. You’re full of hope about your future, there are tons of wonderful experiences ahead of you that you cannot even imagine. I wish we never lost that childlike sense of wonder we have when we’re 20. For most of us, it’s a time we haven’t been corrupted yet, it’s a time where we’re still naive and only at the entrance of that maze called adulthood.

A young friend of mine asked me if I could add him to the series. He’s a beautiful and kind hearted young man, he’s like a little ray of sunshine everywhere he goes. I hope he never looses that sweetness. Unfortunately with age and bad experiences, life can turn that sweetness into bitterness. Life is never as easy as we imagine it’s going to be when we’re 20. There will be joy, there will be pain, but ultimately it builds you into the person you are. Your core will never change. But experience will make you different in many ways.

I’m 29 now, and when I think of me in my 20’s,  I smile and can’t believe how much I’ve changed. I’ve always been a mature and a goal driven person,  but I used to be so much more easily offended and naive back then.  I think I changed the most when I was between 23 and 25. Lots can happen in a year or two. The years go by fast, and if I can give one piece of advice, it would be; “Make it count”. Use your time wisely, because the energy  and passion we have at that age is pretty unique. When comes failures and disappointments along with successes we set for ourselves, it becomes harder and harder to put that incredible energy into everything we do.

So to my young friends I’ll say this; live, work as hard ans you can, but enjoy every moment, even the tough ones, one day you will look back on them and smile. Because you will have learnt so much from it. Love as much as you heart can carry, there is no reason to hold back when we’re young and far from any obligation of settlement. And even though that’s something I wish never had to change. Eventually society’s forces up to ask ourselves these stupid questions once we reach a certain point in our lives; “Am I ready for a lifetime with that person? Do I make enough money to have a family? Am I ready for this?”

I wish we never let our young idealism go, when we love and do things with spontaneity, without care for the future. I think we should never let it burden us. Of course we need to be responsible and being ingenue doesn’t mean you can act selfishly all your life.

When I was 20 I used to be very annoyed with people my age. Now I look at them with a motherly affection and much more patience than I had even a couple years ago. I can excuse a lot from someone in his early 20’s. They’re still children in my eyes on so many levels. But I’m no so forgiving with people in their 30’s. Ironically we live in a society were most men are nothing but 35 years old boys.

SunshineHR

There is that wonderful French song that defines perfectly what it’s like to be when you’re 20. I remember when I listen to it back then I didn’t really understood the words, not as clear as I see them now as a 29 year old adult.

“For all burden, you have twenty years behind you.
When you Love, it’s for a Lifetime
That Life that last the time of a cry

When you love it’s till Death
You often die, then you go out
You go smoke a cigarette
Love you take it, and then you junk it”

I feel like I died many times in the past 10 years, we are reborn every year with each new experience. With a new outlook on life, with great joy, and great pain. We learn to be alone. With time, everything fades, it’s perfectly ok and fine. But That’s why it’s so important to seize these moments and never be afraid of taking risks, especially with your emotions. Because all can be gone so abruptly. Everything will be gone eventually.

With time, the faces, the tenderness, the bitterness, the excruciating pain, the laughs, the tears… with time they all dissipate, and everything becomes fine…

till soon~

D

 

sunshineHR2

Dima is back, she’s never far away screaming in my ears to shut the hell up and draw.

I recently started doing in addition to the Polaroid sized watercolors, large size Polaroids! Same technique but larger scale. Here is the large Polaroid #003 which is about 11 by 17″. Larger format allows me to add more details to the composition, and I was pretty happy how that one came out. Still undecided on the title. Between “Morning Blues” and “Birthday Letter”.

I keep an original blue print of all my drawings. This way if I mess up the watercolor I can always go back to the original pencil drawing, retrace it, and paint it again. It’s interesting how colored version always look different from the pencil draft. Not only because it has colors, rendering process tend to lose details or fine lines from pencil.. I guess my painting needs improvement.

Morning Blues Pencil Stage Morning Blues

 

I’m going to distort a quote from Henry Miller here but bare with me; to really love someone is to be ready to lose yourself in another person, that thought is frightening to the common man/woman, but only until we completely lose ourselves, can we find out who we really are.

I found myself long ago and I had time to drown in my own tears many, many times. So I’m getting to a point where I just do not give a fuck anymore (excuse my French).  And all I know is I’ll never regret to not have lived enough, loved enough, or invest enough heart in my life and in my lovers. That’s more than most people can say.

As Ted Hughes said in a letter he once wrote; The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn’t live boldly enough, that they didn’t invest enough heart, didn’t love enough. Nothing else really counts at all.

I’ll end with another quote of my favorite  poem by Ted Hughes, extract from Birthday Letter;

“The dreamer in her
Had fallen in love with me and she did not know it.
That moment the dreamer in me
Fell in love with her and I knew it”

~ till next time

Here is a sneak peak at some new Polaroids I’ve been working on. I’ve been busy with another project and I didn’t get around it in a while…

[…] “The way the moon dashes through the clouds that blow
Loosely as cannon-smoke to stand apart
(Stone-coloured light sharpening the roofs below)

High and preposterous and separate–
Lozenge of love! Medallion of art!
O wolves of memory! Immensements! No,” […]

Philip Larkin

 

till soon…
-D

Here are some more Polaroids, the undercoat of Yellow came out very bright and for some reason the first words that came in my mind when I looked at them was “Gin & Tonic”

Summer is getting closer, it’s going to be a time for romance for most people. Personally my life is getting too complicated to think straight about anything… I’ll just go with the flow. Fill up my lungs with smoke and drown my heart into liquor. Trying to forget about the lonely and cold months of the winter. Trying not to think about those who mattered… We will think about the future another time.

Waking up next to someone can be nice though… that is if they’re not snoring.

till soon…
D-

I just finished a novel called “Piercing” by Japanese author Murakami Ryu. I usually don’t blog about books but I thought I’d stop on this one because of the highly sexual component. I read several novels from this “decadent” author, starting with Almost transparent blue, war begins beyond the sea, Coin Locker Babies (My favorite) and the Melancholia trilogy.

Murakami Ryu is known for his very dark style, always dealing with tormented characters full of neurosis and paranoia. Murakami dives us in the darkest part of our reality and gives a voice to these monologues on pleasure, boredom and death. His style is brutal, cold and extremely crude, notably when it comes to sex. But there is beauty even in the darkest hour, if you know where to look. And there is something fascinating about humans capacity to survive. In all his novels, the characters stop in the middle of the chaos to contemplate something usually simple but extremely beautiful by it’s randomness, which usually makes them come to a realization about themselves. Like the sound of their own heartbeat; “There is nothing more beautiful and soothing than the sound of a regular heartbeat.”

Piercing is a sort of reversed thriller. A la Dostoevsky, we know exactly what is going on in the murderer’s head and his plans. In Piercing the main character, Kawashima, is obsessed with an idea… the idea he’s going to stab his infant with an ice pick! His solution to avoid that tragedy? Go on a elaborate plan to stab hookers in a Tokyo hotel. But oddly enough nothing goes as PLANNED!
I won’t give out too much but I’ll say that the character of the victim is as widely developed and psychotic as the night terror prone neurotic Kawashima.
I shivered more than once when reading through this novel because of some very graphic imagery… The suspense was killing me and the ending (for once unlike most of Murakami’s novel) was very satisfying. I could see this turned into a thriller or horror film like Audition. I’m not fan of the horror genre but there is something about the psychology of Murakami’s novel that I find fascinating and yet scary.

Here is some extracts from when Kawashima is writing notes about his ritual plans;
Of course, we’ll need a change of clothes as well,He wrote, since there’s bound to be a good deal of blood. Taking off all our own clothes is a possibility, but it would be risky in the event of some form of active resistance on the woman’s part. Besides, getting naked as the ritual was reaching a climax that might be interpreted as having some sort of sexual meaning. We don’t want the woman to think we’re slicing through her Achilles’s tendons just to satisfy a perverted sexual need. She must remain uncertain as to what the significance her own bloodshed and agony hold. It’s vital that those on the receiving end of violence ponder its meaning. A sad but important truth.

(…)
He read over his seven pages of notes, making a few small additions, then put the notebook in his briefcase and spun the dials on the combination lock. He opened the curtains and looked at Tokyo Tower, whose lights were off now, and as he took another sip of Whisky he was aware of the heat in his throat and stomach radiating waves of sexual desire through his body. After the second glass he decided not to drink any more, fearing that he might give in to the temptation to call an S&M club and have a woman sent over.
He hadn’t yet decided how old the victim should be. The idea of someone in her late thirties appealed to him, but he somehow felt it would be more satisfying to plunge the ice pick into a firm, smooth young belly this time, rather than one that was soft and sagging. A young woman yes, with resilient, snow-white skin.”

till soon…
D

“Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.”
-Arthur Rimbaud, Song of the Highest Tower, Collected Poems (1872).

Life brings us together, sometimes these gestures than make us feel like we’re breathing into each other are the ones we remember the most. A “sensation”… We don’t always remember things that happened, but we remember a sensation we felt deep in our guts. Depending on your sensitivity level, you will recall these sensations differently.

I’m amazed at how the human brain records certain things with so much precision. A touch, a smell, again… a sensation. Unfortunately, sometimes it can be a bad thing too… A rape victim will remember vividly these violent sensations, they’ll scar her/his skin so deeply that these touches will automatically be associate with disgust and pain. The trauma left in the body will turn into never healing bruises. This can happen also with a seemingly innocent bad experience, not necessarily something as brutal and horrifying as a rape. My point being; what we do, what we experience and the choices we make define us.

Let’s avoid inner bruises!

We should always be aware of each other. Treat each other’s body carefully and with respect, as if your partner’s body was a sanctuary. Not so many people have the luxury to explore their sexuality with carelessness and find themselves fully blossomed. To be a shameless “erotic” person with no restrictions or discomfort whatsoever, you truly need to have no care in the world. Be a bit of a gypsy… Or a libertine.

A sensation that comes from deep within our subconscious can be a feeling that reminds us how pleasant life is. It reminds us of our past loves and pleasures. Sometimes it can be something as simple as the smell of freshly cut grass in the summer’s morning…

I’ll close up with my favorite of them all, makes me feel like to go on an adventure where I’ll just walk aimlessly in nature;

“On the blue summer evenings, I shall go down the paths,
Getting pricked by the corn, crushing the short grass :
In a dream I shall feel its coolness on my feet.
I shall let the wind bathe my bare head.

I shall not speak, I shall think about nothing :
But endless love will mount in my soul
And I shall travel far, very far, like a gypsy,
Through the countryside – as happy as if I were with a woman.”

Arthur Rimbaud, Sensation (March 1870.)

Till soon…
– D

Here is another larger Illustration entitled “Opium, 9×12”.

They say Love can be as addictive as a drug. It impairs your judgment and reason, it provokes physical reactions you wouldn’t experience in normal times and it makes you dependent, vulnerable. It’s an intoxicating feeling, the passionated rush makes you feel ecstatic for a short period of time, while when the object of your love is missing it provokes great pain, as if one of your limbs was tore off. Just like a drug addiction you feel the desperate need to get more and more of that intoxicating embrace…
My characters seem to share the same addiction, they breath in each other’s soul, maybe until they both completely dry out. Or until they run out of Opium…

I’m just trying to be poetic…

I’ll wrap up on a little piece of Poe’s poem…

[…]
“Perhaps it may be that my mind is wrought
To a fever by the moonbeam that hangs o’er,
But I will half believe that wild light fraught
With more of sovereignty than ancient lore
Hath ever told – or is it of a thought
The unembodied essence, and no more
That with a quickening spell doth o’er us pass
As dew of the night time, o’er the summer grass?
[…]
Doth o’er us pass, when as th’ expanding eye
To the loved object – so the tear to the lid
Will start, which lately slept in apathy?
And yet it need not be – (that object) hid
From us in life – but common – which doth lie
Each hour before us – but then only bid
With a strange sound, as of a harpstring broken
T’ awake us – ‘Tis a symbol and a token -”

Till soon…
– D