the illusion of definition

plein air painting has become a way for me

to see past the deception of

the eye..

which we interpret as a photographic thing

but the eye shuttles rapidly

between objects overlapping things

thrust forward

held back

the brain with its neural networking

assembles the visual data and interprets the

information

gives it edges

gives it definition

 

when I paint and

am in the zone

and the canvas is heavily

textured

denying me edges

I start to sense what the eye is seeing

by my interaction

with the canvas

and what I see

and

as my eye

scans the painting

and the edgeless

night

so for a while

the illusion of definition

is lostImage

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boogie at the old folk’s home

yesterday I went painting again to an old age home here in Sydney.. as I have written about before you never quite know what to expect.. and to be honest.. I was feeling slightly jaded about the whole experience.. and was anticipating the usual unfiltered abuse.. that I sometimes get.. of course.. there is often the warmth I get.. but this was what I was carrying with me this time.. I went in.. I looked around the room.. all the old folks were sitting in the circle.. I set up in the middle… and started painting.. making my life as difficult as possible by using a long rectangular canvas.. there was Rose.. resting.. eyes closed.. good I thought.. this may be peaceful.. David.. was there.. he had just turned 100… and his son.. visiting… there was a therapist.. Scott.. who suddenly started singing old Yiddish folk songs on a ukulele.. I was not expecting that!.. then  a little later.. a male nurse.. who was from Mauritius walked past me and muttered .. hmmm.. I must get my bongos… I thought he was obviously joking.. this is a serious home for the elderly… and obviously not a carnival.. but he showed up a minute later with his bongo drum.. and then the party started… he starting singing Bob Marley songs with this gentle sweet voice.. one of the old guys… who just had so much life in him… life.. I realised should never be quantified by age.. because you miss the whole point of it.. and it gets cheapened that way.. but he started singing old Yom Kippur hymns… and more bob Marley followed that… and of course hava nagilah.. all the while I was spinning in the centre.. painting in one direction.. then turning a bit and changing my point of view.. all in time with the music.. it was one of the most beautiful and gentle experiences… and it showed me you just never know where the beauty lies… and my sister was there too (she works there).. and it was beyond magic to be able to be there with her while all this was happening.. I am deeply grateful to have been able to be part of that experience… just to seal the deal.. Rose… the lady who gave me such a hard time the last time.. did eventually wake up.. and I said.. ‘aaah.. Rose.. it is so good to see you’.. she got up.. came over to my painting.. looked at me… in my eyes.. with her eyes that must have seen so much already.. and  she smiled… and then shuffled on… Image

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the animals in us

The animals in us are us
Dirty old left over genes
Our guilty ancestors
Which give it away that we
Are nothing special
You can’t know what you are already
Schrödinger’s cat said that?
And if it was just me and a donkey
On the planet would I be able to
Distinguish us??
An interplanetary scientist like me…
I would not be able to I am sure
Even if I had sufficient funding.Image

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The sea and me

The sea is my nervous system when it is calm I am calm when it is wild I am unsettled when it is agitated I am agitated so if I want to know how I am feeling I go and stand at the interface of me and the sea and I see me and can see how I am doing

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bird angel blog

I feel inspired like I want to explode with Johnny Cash deep texture paint folding and hardening into something so beautiful and distant and close like love itself.. but not dear sweet love.. hard and real and full of elusive feeling describing the strange attractor of being human… loveImage

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bird builder

In becoming an artist

a big part of that

becoming is

unbecoming my past

but it has to be a gentle

unbecoming

I want to retain the

love I found along

the way the

gentle waves of

recognition

to black strangers on

the street

the love of a

mother

a father

and my friends and

my music.

and my record player

and my room

and the flea market

on a Sunday morning coming down

(thanks Kris)

and I want to

retain the

dark history

the just below the

surface violence

of thoughts

and separations

brutal separations

Seams teaching us

to hate

I want to keep it

so I can see it

so I can

have it as a frame

of reference

to

help me

re-germinate with

an awareness

not like in a

blind

Eden

I want full vision

I want Sid to take me

into the future

realise my true nature

gentle

wanderer

far from home

going homeImage

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faith

Image

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