a side story. A decision.

IMG_2801 I paint when I feel stressed out. I paint when I try to cry (but most of the time, it does not work out that way).

This week blog post has nothing to do with sketching, which is unexpected (my apology). But,this post is one that I really want to share with you all.

I was a premedical student four years ago, and I was supposed to graduate this year, working as a practitioner at hospital. BUT. I changed everything.

 

I am not going to say such as ‘life is so short, just do something I enjoy’, but it is true to think about it sometimes (but please don’t take it as an excuse). It took me almost three years to figure it out what I wanted to do. Last December, one day during biochemistry class, I decided to change my program, completely. BACK TO THE TOPIC.

Where were we? oh, right, here, ‘I paint when I feel stressed out…’. The idea of looking at an empty canvas is just a beauty. It is like silent confession; a painting speaks for you what you are trying to say. I held my brushes. Maybe I was standing, or kneeling on the floor. Aqua-blue, flesh tint, yellow, sap green, Payne’s grey,… and white, they all dance on the canvas. They cannot help it, laughing, jumping, skipping, leaving some space for the poor canvas. Like Tomi Ungerer once indicated, the ‘blank paper’ is being raped (by the brushes, pencils,…). I paint a lot, and I never get bored of doing it. I sketch plenty, and I never really run out of places to draw in the city. I go to restaurants and bars a lot alone because I find it is relaxing to do sketching at the familiar places (even just a rough idea of what I want to sketch). I think art is a mess sometimes because it always has blurry lines between categories since many of us tend to classify, judge and criticize today (I might be wrong, but it is just from my perspective).

I want to learn more about it. I want to be a person that can actually talk about art itself, not just paintings of mine. I cannot say that I can now, but I will. I believe that theories of artwork generated by artists could at least make blurry lines clear bit more. To tell a true story, we don’t have to prepare with exclusive materials; we all have to be honest to yourself. A classmate, a friend of mine, also posted inspiring thoughts about ‘being honest‘. Whether a painting would satisfy myself, release my stress or not, I would always have to make the first move because the empty canvas will never tell me what to do. [One expression: I am going to the one who rapes her.]

The painting’s title is ‘Flower to you’, and it is unfinished. Probably, it will be accomplished soon. Next week, I will introduce a new place at Georgia Hotel. Be patient.

 

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