I wonder if a piece of music that was composed and never listened by someone else exists. I wonder if a painting that was painted and then destroyed, never seen by anyone other than the artist, exists. I listen to Summer from Vivaldi's Four Seasons on loop while painting, and remember Kandinsky in his investigation of painting and music, in an extremely difficult effort to translate one into the other. It didn't help that his book was printed in black and white though.
The vigorous, physical painting session at the studio today sheds a faint light into the unconscious, where the language is colour and composition. Indeed, what becomes material, when the paint conquers the canvas, is nothing but a faint mirror of an unattainable, remote truth.
Yet, the moment when the metaphysical art is cristalysed onto the canvas undeniably carries substantial weight. And if the artist is able enough, this weight transcends towards the viewer, whose experience is likely to be fed by an unconscious comparison with deep-seated abstractions, perhaps their own slice of a collective abstraction - or art - within. This impact will influence their view or taste of what is good or bad, in a search for the right balance between surprise and familiarity, technique and spontaneity, comparing in microseconds the art against a multiplicity of inner influences from the most mundane to the most profound aspects of their human existence.
I conclude, while mixing some cyan and white, that the foundation of all the paintings I will ever paint already exist within, getting fed everyday by the multiple interactions with the world and with others. Sometimes, when deeply focused into the work, I see them from a distance. A colour, the stroke of a brush, stripes, a pattern. Buried under the multiple thoughts of the day, compositions make themselves known solely through the urge and the action of painting. Taking a deep breath, I wonder how much life I have ahead to paint, as I know for sure that there are as many paintings inside me as drops of water in the deep blue sea I can see from my window, surrounding the tiny island I chose to call home.
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