“Drawing is not an exercise of particular dexterity, but above all a means of expressing intimate feelings and moods.” (Henri Matisse)
I feel in color. I no longer see this as a disadvantage since most process everything in black and white.
I paint as if it means my life. By the last stroke I am at times out of breath.
I sometimes leave tears, strong emotions, mixed in the paint. They are not tears of sorrow it’s just that I feel with such intensity, and that intensity is relieved when I put paint on paper.
I no longer apologize for feeling intensely, not when many in the world embrace apathy.
I primarily paint at night when many are sleeping. It’s almost as if I paint in secret, concealed so that no one truly sees the madness that unfolds for just one small piece of artwork to come out exactly as I saw it in my heart. I like to paint at night and wait for the sun to go down as if it’s my cue to be unleashed.
I’d rather attempt a project and fail miserably than to be held back by fear. Fear is like the chains on wrists and legs which people have fought and died to have removed.
I long to move fearlessly.