All about feet.
Some stories are all about a part of the body-feet, thighs, breasts, nose.
I have really ugly feet. The truth is I was never really troubled by that, only marginally, but probably because I love drawing them. They are fascinating forms, don't you think? And they are also so very precious, carrying all our weight around and all. And as I was doing this I thought of winged feet, which is the means of transforming the ugly feet story- by
the gift of wings.
Yes, my friends these are the silly things I think of when I am painting but then I also think about color relationships.
And line qualities.
As I was making this one I had to add a series of a's and I remembered very clearly the pleasure and the effort it took to write my first letters. I wanted to stay there.
I remember things more clearly while I am painting than at any other time. Is art then a game of hide and seek?
Seeking small memories, whispering thoughts, little voices under layers and layers of the demands of 'now'? And why should one seek them you say, why are they important after all?
Is it just a means of grasping to life?