Notes on Vision 22

I remember my first oil painting It was an odd little thing. Just a blue canvas, with a tiny brown fish in the center of it. Since becoming an adult artist I have decided that the image would have compared favorably to aKlee-or perhaps even have been mistaken for one. If that had been the case it would not have been a very well regarded Klee. I would not expect it to bring a high price in an art gallery, or to hold a place of prominence in a prestigious museum More likely it would appear as apocrypha in some odd textbook- Something that might be of interest to an art historian perhaps, who would then classify it and remark on it's being of no lasting importance except as a misty, a quick knock off work, one that is of interest only because it was made by him. Oh they would hem and haw and pooh pooh the work and move onto a much more complicated composition, one that had elements of magical thinking, something abstract, a subset of impulses that were more recognizably Klee. I also remember that painting with oil was not easy like painting with water media. I remember getting colors all over my hands and not knowing that I could not wash with water-when Ittied I only managed to spread it

out more. A few spots spread into patches which I also succeeded in transferring paint to my clothes and to the counter top I had been working on-finally my father called a friend who worked at a hardware store who explained that I could use turpentine or salad oil to do the job and it  worked, at least to the extent that I was able to dilute the paint enough that although it stained my skin, It no longer transferred to everything touched. Years later when I actually learned a bit about the chemistry of paint, I remembered that first oil mess with humor, but at the time it had confused me. I'd been an artist in a previous life, at least that's what my aunt said; I had retained some of the physical abilities but none of the necessary tools of chemistry, knowing the how but not the "why" or the "what". 

Like many experiences I still learn from that one if I think about it. I remember how thick and viscous the paint was and also the stain quality after dilution and I still u=e that tech to stain paper or canvases as a men Thal ground. I still use that technique to stain a neutral ground. I also learned that in apinchd could use salad oil both as media and to clean mps. Not a bad lesson for a four year old if you ask me.

IN THE AFTERNOON A PHILOSOPHER CAN LIFT A LOT OF WEIGHT WITH A GOOD IDEA. ON A COOL SUMMER AFTERNOON WE CAN RELAX 1/4 THE REFRESHING BREEZE. Its A GOOD TIME To TAKE YOUR LOVER SOME PLACE QUIET. BUT REMEMBER THAT, in your DREAM, WHEN THE RAINS COME, THE ROOF LEAKS LIKE A SIEVE. Your SEX MAY WINDUP COOLER THAN YOU EXPECT THE SOFA, THE BED, ALL TAKE ON WATER. THE ENTIRE Room THE WHOLE HOUSE LEAKS. THERE IS NO SHELTER WHEN IT RAINS. RELAX INTO THE DREAM. PALE EYES LIKE SAUCERS SHINING OUT OF THE DARKNESS. THEY ARE ALL You CAN SEE OF THE DRIFTING DREAMER. THIS IS A SAD MOMENT A FAINT REMINDER OF THOUGHTS THAT DON'T PASS MUSTER OF INTEGERS THAT DON'T ADD Up. THERE IS A CHARGE IN THE AIR A DARK HOLIDAY ELEMENT THAT SEEMS To DECEIVE EVEN THE SUN. THE RESILIENCE OF THESE OLD AND SICK THOUGHTS. HOW DID THE WIND BECOME SO THICK AND SYRUPY, Too HEAVY TO BREATH, CONDENSED AS IF IN BITTER COLD. THERE IS A POLAR INTENSITY FRAUGHT WITH SECRET PATTERNS AND ODDITIES OF MISUNDERSTANDING. 

IF I HAD A CLEAR SENSE OF THE MOMENT I MIGHT ELICIT SOME KIND OF SURRENDER A PASSIVE LUCIDITY PIECED TOGETHER IN A PISSANT SUGGESTION OF ARTICULATE VERBAGE. THERE WOULD BE A SWIFT AND CREDIBLE ARC. You WHO SEE THE FALSEHOOD. You WHO SEEK THE PAGAN RESOLUTION OF TRUTH AND IT's BANNER TRAIL. IF SKIES TURN AS PINK AS PUSSIES, IF OUR HORMONES LIFT US To A DIFFERENT IF NOT ALWAYS BETTER AWARENESS, LINKS US SOMEHOW To THE OTHER AREAS OF SOLACE, PERHAPS IT WOULD ALSO RESOLVE THE PATTERN AND SHOW THE SECRET. THERE ARE LARGE PAYLOADS AND SEVERE PENALTIES FOR SUCH EXTRAVAGANT PILLORIES. SYLVIA WAS NOT NURTURED. SHE IS NOT STABLE BECAUSE SHE BELIEVES THE EARTH IS UNRELIABLE. IT IS A BOARDWALK OF CONSUMPTION, AN ASSUMPTION, A TRAVESTY OF FILTH GROWN IGNORANCE.