Impossible

'People fear the impossible.'

Bram van Velde

'I am up against a wall, but I have to move forward. It's impossible, isn't it?

 Yet you can still move forward, gain a few miserable millimeters.'

Samuel Beckett

It is frightening.

Arrived before 5:00 this morning. It took fifteen minutes to see where I was.

Despite my best hopes, the weather was mild, placid. No wind, no rain, no nothing, only space and light.

How to explain this. Can it be 'explained'?

What I value in Zeeland, is the virtual absence of perspective, that intellectuel construct, that conventional falsehood, as far removed from reality as words are from the thing they are believed to pertain to. This universe, this space, this light make the impossibility of my endeavour even harder to ignore. That is exactly what I want. 

When I draw, I do not express, I do not represent. I do not depict. Because there is nothing. That is frightening. What can be the relation between the sheet of paper in my lap, and the nothingness around me? It is impossible. On days like this, I rather anxiously try to avoid any horizon, that most perfect of lies. I fail constantly.

When there is no wind to articulate the space, no picturesque cloud formations, no rain, just nothing, the senses grab at anything to make the invisible palpable, the flight of a flock of geese or the reverberating call of an oystercatcher. Feeling your way in the dark.

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