I meet people.
I meet people.
8 years, 37 days ago
I meet people. Many. There is something intoxicating in it. Everyone has their unique story. Some stories are beautiful, some sad and some incomprehensible. It remains for me, as always, the idea of what might be behind the fleeting insight. Often does not stay the time to explore more deeply. I go out and stroll through the streets of the city and ask myself, I know the person who lives here? Am I met him?
I meet people in two dimensions. Real and virtual. Who's who? You, picture in my PC - I smelled you or touches you? I go ahead and do not look now at the faces. I close my eyes to open it after a while and immediately close again: What did I see? What have I let into me? People images. Bodies. Dressed. Who is under the clothes? Why are these clothes?
I'm going paint. I paint people to 150cm x 50cm. Long must the format. Not too big, a little volatile. I have to paint finish. I still need a bit of 1 to 2 months maybe. Then I bring them here. Show them to you. I'm easy to understand, I think.
Although I can not catch myself always:
Townscapes. I have to paint them. They reassure me. It's still a walk in the form of a mosaic. Street, angle 90 degrees, turn left at an angle 60 degrees. House next to the house. Each window similar, yet different. Other bulbs, other light colors. Blinds, curtains, flowers filter the outgoing light. Not in detail, in shapes and lines. Running around the corner turn, three times dancing in the roundabout. At night is beautiful, but in the morning when a city is awake, is something like a resurrection. Each time the same, but at the moment I believe it is the first time Then the people come out. One, two, five, seven - then many. I'm in my head not quite there. I have to disappear. Meet the people - I will do later.