Over the last 19 years I have painted many paintings. Some landscapes, figurative works, some expressive abstract... many paintings.
Yesterday the canvas was a mirror to my soul. I felt sunshine inside my soul. I did not paint theses two paintings... they painted themselves.
a Dream
a warm infinite space
a place of peace
for a moment I felt such abundant calm. No tension.... nothing but openness.
I do not meditate. Little if much do I go to church. Never walked into a yoga studio.
Art is my life, my god, my lover, my whore, my friend, my killer, my birth, my death. Art is the art I breathe. But Art is only Art. It is something and nothing all at the same time. For a brief moment everything is bliss. My eyes open up so wide. And my mind is drugged with harmony and clarity.
Like a heart attack my father dies. Years of not working together. Not seeing eye to eye. I eye I eye can not live in love. Cancer consumes the night sky. Life dies. Love is never lost. Love is Love. The sun falls into the night.
Art is more than paint on canvas. But it does not kiss you. It does not make you breakfast. Art is a car crash. A temporary journey on a dead end high way.
When I finish a painting I feel so alive. Two years later I look at the same painting and it looks dead. Art is Alive. Art is Dead.
Art is a lover that will never kiss you. Art is masturbation. Art is a bliss that you wish and miss. Art is a fucking waste of time. Art is my life. Nothing is forever. Art is nothing. Forever.
Like a child I love to play with paint.
Today I felt sunshine in my soul. I felt like a bird flying towards the sun.
Dream Dreams... never Sleep.
Patrick
The Red painting was inspired by Robin Lynch's dance....
