May 20th, 2015

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Remembrance of Silken Blue

This is, for me, about as metaphysical as it will ever get.

Remembrance of Silken Blue
New York_Autumn_2005

It’s a just-before-deep-sleep dream, an image-dream, almost real but not quite as colors dance and whirl in washed-out darkness on the back of movie-screen eyelids. Impressions form, dissolve, only to reform in just the same way. Faded streaks in tint and shade, scattered dabs of creamy white and yellow on blue-black create patterns that, even before opening his eyes, Justin knows is his next painting, his first in New York. Rising at twilight, quiet, careful not to wake Alex, while the coffee brews, he gathers his supplies and by 6am, he’s ready to paint. It’s dusk before he’s even vaguely satisfied with what he’s done. And it’s eight more days before he’s finished. He nonetheless will consider his first New York painting the easiest work he ever does. And why? Because, before he ever puts paint to brush to canvas, the work is already finished, complete and fully-formed, intimately captured in those flash-seconds of his image-dream. And even if it does take just a little longer to actually paint it in real life.

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