A Life in Paint
Now that I'm settled into my new home and studio, it's time to get back to work in a serious way, and that means paying some much needed attention to my poor, neglected blog. It also, of course, means painting, and I've been doing quite a bit of that.
This is my latest piece, I completed it last night. I call it The Surreal Life. It's the latest in my Surreal Series (you may remember earlier ones such as Existence in an Unfathomable Universe and Down the Rabbit Hole). For this piece, I just put on the tunes and let the paint fly and what came out was a very unique, visually pleasing and deeply personal piece.
Why is it so personal, you ask? Well, that's exactly what I'm going to tell you in this post. Being inside my mind, I'm guessing, would probably be a very strange, maybe scary, complex journey. Well, HAVING my mind and being in this world is often the same for me. Maybe it's the Asperger's, maybe it's just that I've always been a little different, or maybe it's a little of both, but I've always found the world and its workings "strange". I often joke that I am an alien, dropped off here, from a distant and unknown planet. I look just like the other inhabitants of the planet, but they seem somehow odd to me; their ways, their customs, all seem very strange, almost foreign. It's like walking through a movie set in a way; some of it's intriguing, some of it's a bit scary, some of it is calm and serene and some stuff is utterly fascinating and fun, but it's all just a bit "surreal". Sometimes, I just sit back and watch the show; it doesn't always make sense to me, but when it doesn't, I just make up my own narrative. Maybe the woman walking with the umbrella in bright sunshine is crazy, maybe she's overly prepared for a coming shower, or maybe she is diligent about avoiding sun exposure. The narratives help me make sense from apparent nonsense, and sometimes, they're just for fun.
I try to mimic them, to respond to them the way they do to me; a smile is met with a smile, a nod with a nod. There seems to be a certain order to it. Sheldon Cooper calls it a "social protocol" (as in "the social protocol when a friend is in distress is to offer a hot beverage"). It feels forced, unnatural somehow, but sometimes, there are those rare moments when I'm almost one of them. In fact, most days now, I blend in pretty well with the inhabitants of this strange world. Of course, they can't see what's going on inside my head. So, there you have it, this piece is essentially my mind on canvas. Not for the faint of heart, but very cool and always an adventure.