Last post of 2018: overview

An overview of this summer's studio

work: 26 gouaches, on light kraft paper (77x88), 3 on steinbach (110x73), a few smaller formats on cardboard ("On est jamais assez pauvre.").
The photos are too blue, but it couldn't be helped.
Tried to arrange them chronologically, but got into a layout muddle.

Attained a grain of freedom, and got somewhat more acquainted with the medium.

Back to the other work soon. That can't be helped either. Next year.

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 zomer 18.1

zomer 18.0

Last post of 2018 (?)

Moi je cherche le moyen de capituler sans me taire - tout à fait.

Samuel Beckett

Mild and humid southwestern breeze, sky overcast. Hazy to the point of making the horizon invisible, which made this last expedition of 2018 all the more melancholic (hence the desperate, paltry question mark in the title). The first hazy morning of summer, and the last.
O for the fogs of autumn!

Next summer.

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Silence and nothingness

Every word is like a stain on silence and nothingness.

Samuel Beckett

Not a productive morning.
Waited a long time for it to get light enough. Blueberry pie and coffee for breakfast. Chilly, humid southern wind. Started to rain around 7.
Not particularly interesting as to light/space.
No matter. Try again.

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Prime Mover

But what matter whether I was born or not, have lived or not, am dead or merely dying.

I shall go on doing as I have always done, 

not knowing what it is I do, nor who I am, 

nor where I am, nor if I am.

Samuel Beckett

Last night, the Omnipotent Prime Mover threw a fit in his kitchen, banging Divine pots and pans, generally throwing His Infinite Weight about. Guess the heat finally got to Him/Her/It. The racket died down shortly before I arose at 4. Upon arrival I saw the last echoes of lightning on the eastern horizon.

It remained dark for long enough to eat a sandwich and have some coffee.

Very humid (88%) and with that, a head-on breeze, gradually stiffening throughout the morning. For those landlubbers who don't know what a stiff breeze is: in a stiff breeze, you pour your coffee sideways. Occasionally, a passing ship spills container or two (this last statement subject to examination - might be subjective).

During the first hour, I felt increasingly subject to an indefinable sensation. After another hour or so, I realized that it was the absence of heat. Chill!

Last Sunday, saw the Sean Scully exhibition in De Pont, Tilburg. Had expected his work to be more rigid, but found it pleasingly sensual and rich. It is a good and rare thing to see painting that is not based on a narrative. That resonates without a given meaning. 

But my Omnipotent Prime Mover can the man talk! Even if slow and thoughtfully. Check out his video's. If I talked that much and so intimately about my work, I would feel the urgent need to self-flagellate. 

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