Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 42 in, 2017. This was another (of the few) ‘breakthrough’ paintings likely never repeated. It happened out of frustration and failure (with the resultant element being the black ‘emergent thing’). Given my early-life attachment-trauma conditioning, I’d really like to create iterations of this piece (towards securing attachment), but unfortunately the brain-parts pursuant in this endeavour would likely yield a facsimile deeply unsatisfying to my other selves.
Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 48 in, 2017. I wasn’t planning on painting Mickey Mouse. My paintings of most interest imbue something beyond conscious intent. I have sometimes referred to them as “happenings” (unexpected, surprising, interesting). It’s a quality I desire but cannot control. There’s certainly contributing ingredients: Sufficient energy, excitement and an alignment of enough aspects of self. In their absence, the work will likely be dull.
Oil on canvas, 28 x 28 in, 2017. This was the most interesting oil study during my brief foray using traditional oil mediums. Its success (in part) was due to it being on fresh primed canvas (allowing aspects of seepage).
Acrylic on canvas, 78 x 44 in, 2017. The name was inspired by the colour of a cigarette lighter (with the brand name ‘Rhino’).
Acrylic on canvas, 60 x 36 in, 2017. To be honest I don’t know if this painting still exists.* Within the confines of the home studio, there’s only so much room for storage. Until the occasion finds me with the confidence, energy and time for a benign-enough avenue for selling these things, I’ll need to reconstitute the work (white-out, paint, watch, repeat).
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*It does not exist. Whenever “Blanked” appears at the bottom of the text entry it means it has been painted over.
Acrylic on canvas, 2017. The title happened after the painting (as they mostly do): An ‘earnest’ dialogue between primary colours and the tensions (for excitement, not discomfort) that may potentiate.
Acrylic on canvas, 2017. For a while I thought this would get the ‘white-out’ treatment, pronto. Why? Because although there was inspiration (nice when it happens) in response to the memory of roses in bloom, the execution seemed a little too ‘pretty’ within my critic-highbrow schema.
Acrylic on canvas, 78 x 44 in, 2017. The title refers to this being the ‘tallest’ painting engaged with back then. The scale was new territory: how to ‘fill up’ the space without it merely looking like such.
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Acrylic on canvas, 78 x 44 in, 2017. I think it’s since received the white-out treatment (and has therefore been reconstituted). Back then I’d often ‘nuke’ the canvas with a big-black-brush overlay if it felt boring and lacking in tension.
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