Thursday, October 15, 2009
"I don't think about art while I work. I try to think about life." - Jean-Michel BasquiatI control my emotions when I paint with enamel. When I paint with watercolours or draw in ink, I let them all out. I don't think about technique, composition or colour. I try not to think at all. Instead, I probe the tender areas within myself to reach feelings I've suppressed. I revisit emotional experiences – heartache, love, death, happiness, obsessions, dreams, nightmares – and with them, memories that once I might have tried to erase. There are also images that have seeped into my subconscious from elsewhere: fragments from other people's paintings or photographs, scenes from movies, TV documentaries or music videos, incidents glimpsed through the windscreen of my car, descriptions I've read in poetry or a novel, or lurid fantasies that exist only in my head. The result isn't random or a matter of luck. Somewhere between my imagination and a blank sheet of paper, the coagulated spill of feelings and visions acquires coherency, revealing some underlying intention. For better or worse, it becomes art.