My Favourite Hiding Place
Some paintings don’t speak. They don’t have “a story” to tell. There is no “meaning in the art”.
Is that allowed? Is it okay that I can sit down conceive and execute a a well crafted work of art, frame it, hang it on the wall and not know what I have made or why I made it?
No really, I am speechless… Is that because there are no words for it or because I have no idea what I am doing ?
Yet I did it again. I let it happen. I trusted the “process”.
There must be things to say about my painting. After all, I made it and people are aways talking about art, right?
But here there is no reason or rhyme.
This painting wants to be silent. Wordless. Story-less.
I painted this not because I have some thing to say, but because i want to share a feeling.
Somehow this feeling is evoked by the form, the colour, the light. When I paint, I am lost in this feeling. Somehow this feeling gets into the paint.
I love to be in this place, this wordless empty space where paint becomes light, becomes something else.
This is my favourite hiding place.
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