Here are two very tiny oil paintings. Both were part of a larger work that I took a razor blade to, and cut out the parts I found interesting. Very little from the larger painting seemed interesting.
I glued these bits to paper. At the time I couldn't see them for what they were, primitive experiments. I had this mystical fascination for atmosphere, the horizon. I was looking off into the distance, and must have been hearing the call of a watery world. Did I know I would be going to sea when I made these? Did I know that I would lose interest in painting, and become a filmmaker? These paintings seem to have known. The part of filmmaking I liked was editing. Creating meaning, through cuts.
I glued these bits to paper. At the time I couldn't see them for what they were, primitive experiments. I had this mystical fascination for atmosphere, the horizon. I was looking off into the distance, and must have been hearing the call of a watery world. Did I know I would be going to sea when I made these? Did I know that I would lose interest in painting, and become a filmmaker? These paintings seem to have known. The part of filmmaking I liked was editing. Creating meaning, through cuts.
You might wonder why I'm taking the time to post these here. Quite simply because I don't own these anymore. I gave them to my godmother shortly after I made them, and only have these photos. So by putting the images here I'll have them to refer to.
A blog is personal history, out of order.
