Posts Tagged 'watercolor'

280. Play, relish.

man:place

A lot of my stuff is still in the living room. Another collection is in the studio, in boxes, piled up seven layers, and on the floor everywhere. I still don’t have access to all my instruments and paper.

I use what I have access to. So this one is made with watercolor on canvas. Some canvases are made to take watercolor. I did the drawing on the wrong side, which is coarser, by mistake. I drew it late last night. And I used the softest pencils I have, Prismacolor. They are almost like oil pastels.

In a lot of my recent art there is a person there. I think it comes from the experience of living nowadays. Every experience that I have of the physical world is seen through the body and creates a response in the body. So the body is of interest. In this one there is also a sense of a place with some trees and fields. Everything become the same in importance. All are experienced and everything is viewed by the true self. You can slide lightly into the true self and be the true self for a while. You are extremely sensitive. You feel every little physical appearance. You feel the excitement of a child, wanting to touch everything. Being in a quiet awe, loving everything, wanting to see more, to play with it, to enjoy the good feeling of the person and everything in his world. All that appears looks like a miracle.

The physical world itself does not seem to have a lot of depth. It is just some shapes, some movements, in a shallow layer, doing all the miracles of the physical world, while floating above an infinite space. That’s where you really are. All of it and all that appears in it is you. This is where the depth is. Relish. Play. There is no better feeling than meeting with yourself.

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276. A report on my condition

My studio is changing its face. It is the place where my new phase of life will be created. Not finished yet. I did a lot of physical work and felt good with it. Only the nerves in my feet suffered. For days I had very strong pain. But I think there is less of a story in this. I mean, the subconscious does not make a big deal of it.

Even in the midst of the change and the chaos I painted in the living room. But I had three days without painting. Painting is my best way to converse with my non-physical parts. So it was time to talk. Last night I sat at the new, bigger table and my brush dipped itself in the colors. I asked Int (Intuition, the knowing that comes from the nonphysical and does not need thinking) what is going on with me.

Then I painted, to get the answer.

The lines in watercolor were wet. The air was wet and drying was slow. I wanted to use color areas but I had to wait. Every hour nowadays I stop everything and meditate myself to connect with the non physical me. I stay there. I see what I feel. I see what I want. Then I go on with life or so it is called. Other activities and the pain took place and the drawing remained untouched till the morning. When I looked at it in the morning, I saw that it was finished, just as it was. There was no need any more to add anything.

Here is the drawing:

Int's Report

Here is Int’s report about my condition:

  1. The ochre turned dusty with red. (Little pain. Part of the stories of physical life.)
  2. The red that could seem to be harsh and painful reminded instead of strong bright colors on dark backgrounds that I saw in my old drawings earlier. (Excitement, fun, love, adventure.)
  3. And why are there no blocked areas? Because there are no blocked areas in your being. (It is time to sneak out through the spaces between the lines and taste the true essence.)
  4. Green is the repetition of the red. (When you use one different color you want to use it again somewhere in the painting. But here the common element with the redness is the difference of the greenness, which is like the difference of the redness.) (What fun!)
  5. The eyes float disconnected from their caves. (Leaving attachment to the body.)
  6. The most open sections are the heart and the third eye. (Use them as gates.)
  7. There is a person there indeed. He has a shirt with a collar that is plaid. (You. I am talking to you.) (Which, of course is me. In my world there is only me. In your world there is only you. When we meet, you invite me into your world and I invite you into my world. It is much more mysterious and beautiful than we know. When we see through the stories, we discover that you are me and I am you.)

219. The mirror spoke

Conflicted about direction

Which way to go?

Did a drawing this morning. This morning was a slow one. I woke up at four, drank tea with milk and stayed in bed, sitting with the backing of the couch’s pillow, and the meditation cushion supporting my head. I listened to Rupert Spira talking for a few minutes about how, after awakening, the allure of material, things, disappears. Then it was close to seven and I did everything of the mornings and ate. And here, at this table, I laid my head on my hands and rested again. It is amazing to me how tired I can be, that even after a good night sleep, which I did not have for so many years, I can be so tired still.

Now I have the new watercolor drawing in front of me and I think: Let’s see what is in it.

I can see density, as if it describes stones or packages that somehow got connected to each other in groups. Now we have a few clumps. The way the clumps relate to each other as a group of clumps, as a composition, gives a feeling of an effort. What is the effort? Maybe it is to stay together, while every one of them wants to go somewhere else. This is where the tension comes from.

There is one unfinished piece and it gives the effect of something that was left undone, unfinished. And maybe this effect creates another one, of something that happened in a haste. This whole group of clumps detached itself, or even better, tore itself away from something bigger and found itself free, but conflicted about where to go now. Now that they have freedom, what do they want to do with it?

And before, when I looked at the drawing and did not yet let the words come and tell me this story, the drawing looked like a stranger. How did it come here? What does it have to do with me?

And here we are now. The mirror spoke at last.

89. Stand-up tragedy

As you know, I draw without knowing what I do. I just listen to impulses and hints. I see a color in my imagination; I take it. I look at the watercolor box and my eyes fall on blue; I start with blue. The lines decide where they want to go. And sometimes when I look at what came out I see figures and a whole story. This was the case this time. When I write about what I see, I allow the story to be created in the same way that the drawing was. Whatever suggests itself to me in my mind, I write.

The knight with the meaningless fight

The knight with the meaningless fight

It looks like a knight (in red) on his horse (in dark, dirty blue), going to fight the meaningless fight.

He is being sent to war by a big, burning, blooming woman (on the left), who hands him the green javelin. He will have to throw it into his enemy’s heart.

He rides a dark horse who is strong but maybe blind.

The knight sends forward a part of himself that can be a leg or a penis.

Whatever this is, it flowers too, becomes a landscape or a plant, or maybe even something with human consciousness. This enables it to look back at the knight, as if asking: What the hell are you doing?

It ridicules him.

The knight does not really want to go. You can tell by where he is in the picture: A little bit back from center, considering the direction of the movement. It is a place, compositionally, from which it is hard to move. You can also see that the horse goes faster than the knight

There are two short lines, yellow and blue, coming into the scene from the right, with curiosity, like children, as if asking: What is going on here?

This asking is the most powerful part of the drawing, or the event that the drawing describes. Every other part is involved in doing. But these two are just wondering. Their power comes from not being a part of the story.

Obviously they are not aware of any danger.

Just this curiosity is the power that will turn the complete event into a mirage, a wonderful show with emotions and all. A story.

Details:

Who holds the ground for the knight to travel on toward his enemy? The woman/flower/fire.

Why is the horse lifeless, in spite of his movement and strength? Because it is not real and it never changes. It is a transparent dream creature, representing fear and wars.

 Is there anything real in all of that? It is a story that was inside of me even before it came out into computer-land.

 Can I choose to think that all of it has never happened? I can, but I have to release the emotional energy from it first, which I do by playing this game with the picture and the story. By listening to the picture and the story in a rich way, as I do here, the emotional energy leaves it, and some flexibility and love come in instead.

You may wonder if this has anything to do with my life, with my healing process, with my becoming freer and freer. It has. There was still in me some belief (maybe this is why I like stories about knights), that my actions in life are determined by the women with whom I live. They send me to war and hold the rules of the game. I am reluctant to go but the horse under me, the power of society and hidden beliefs, drags me on in spite of me. And what about the leg or the penis? That’s what the war is about.


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The healing process

Entries 1-58 show how I use the method of Intuition Through Art to heal myself from Peripheral Neuropathy.