I spent approximately one and a half week in October on a painting of Ragnarök, the revolution of worlds in North mythology. I had the war in Syria in my mind the entire time. The painting was carried out rather poorly. The lower third of it was not planned or sketched out when I started and as always with oil painting, plans are nothing but planning is everything. Somehow it became a beautiful painting regardless with a dazzling exuberance of colors. I would have loved to show it to you all but I fear it is quite impossible. The painting is in red and ultra-marine. It looks like the work of a ten year old when it goes through the camera and into the laptop. I will try and soften the heart of the scanner to maybe let it get through unscathed but I am not optimistic. Maybe it was not meant to be seen on screen.
My circadian rhythm is becoming a bit bizarre again. I spent one week about a moth again rotation day and night, working from afternoon to four in the morning. I learned a lot about oil painting although the actual painting I worked on will be scrapped or at least forever hidden from the public eye. The handcraft was good enough; the idea just wasn’t good enough to carry itself.
Buying new brushes has changed my life
I recently found out that Norman Rockwell was probably gay
My hands are drying again. My left palm hurts and crackles. Not nice.I have deliberately avoided the news recently. It is because of the storm in the Philippines. I don’t want to see news photos or read about it. I don’t need it. I understand it looks like hell over there. I understand they need money. Just send me a bloody phone number so I can text message a hundred crowns or something like that to Doctors without Borders and be fine with that. (I am a poor student and I can’t really give away that much of money that is not mine). But no pictures or graphic descriptions, please. No smashed or drowned kids. No stories about families instantly buried in rapid mud slides. No amputees or cholera epidemics, please. I have become sensitive as I grow older. Take my money; just don’t rub my face in endless, unnecessary suffering. I have always tried to be a good person and my contribution to the greenhouse effect is probably low in comparison to most of my countrymen. So please, spare me the details.