Portrait of a man seated at a table, oil on card, 9.8 x 10.8 cm
I am happy with this picture, especially the roughish texture, which is the result of painting over an old painting. The effect seems somewhat "Tuscan" to me. I like working very much on this small, miniature scale- I like the intimacy it brings to the subject.
Painted from a hot dog joint near here: incredible how the atmosphere of a place changes at night- some places much more than others. This neighbourhood is "incomplete", with many blocks in construction. At night it has a desolate air, during the day it seems nondescript.
A portrait of a young man, oil on card, 9 x 11.5 cm
Lucas, again- he is a fine model, very hard to "catch".
For me, the most interesting models unconsciously reveal some element of their nature: they are not entirely in control of the messages that their faces and body languages transmit. The process of portraiture is not to affirm what is known and controlled, but to reveal "the unconscious life of the mind" - to transpose Knut Hamsun's words describing his writing to the practice of painting.
In the 30s, in racist Texas, a black teacher trains a black college dabating team: despite interpersonal difficulties, largely inspired by a pretty girl with a dimple, they prove formidible in debates with other colleges.
This is an essay in moral obviousness: we might be better served by a film which illustrated with less suffocating self righteousness the genesis of the civil right movement, and whose lead characters had the tiniest complexity: but as this film comes from Ms Oprah Winfrey's stable so we should expect nothing else.
I'd be curious to see a film describing the corrosive effects of self-righteousness on the American people -a quality which Americans seem delighted to export. This would be a film which parodies moral worthiness and all the bossiness and mental lethargy that comes with it, and which describes the nausea it induces in gentle souls who prefer to mind their own business.
Painted from the table of a burger joint. I wasn't bothered at all there but I miss being able to sit in a car and paint and listen to music.
I'd intended to paint the stars but couldn't find a suitable place to work: I need somewhere that is bright enough for me to paint but which affords a good view of the night sky, the stars undiminished by streetlights.
As I paint a white boat appears, silently moving up the creek: fishermen coming home.
There is a Randall Jarrell book with illustrations by Sendak which I always think of in connextion with the moods which the creek and the discreet, hidden parts of this island evoke: the island of Santa Catarina which is so rapidly being open to motor cars and indentikit concrete condominium blocks.
I think next time- maybe tonight- I shall try to paint this less thickly. I'm not sure if the heavy paint really suits the ethereal subject.
A precious furniture designer lives with his wife and child in a Corbusier house: his idyll is destroyed when his neighbour constructs a window in his wall looking onto their house.
With much wit, the film describes the vacuity of the designer, his vanity, casual dishonesty and snobbery. However the film is somehow incomplete, the various narrative threads not closed with total eficiency. I am not sure if this is deliberate or not.