Following forecasts, the fellows who fry fingers at the chicken joint are acutely aware of over cooking. Activity at its base, is the act of change over stasis. Moving and manipulating ambulatory limbs is the minimum. You can jig or jag, but there must be a delta in the equation.
The painter applies a medium to a medium, the art comes from the conjoining of those multitudinous applications. While some appear random, the gist is obvious. Depth and breadth create the third dimension in our minds eye. The artist does not push anything, the image is pulled from within the medium.
Once on a stretch, the kernel grows into an image. The image is then developed by the third party being you, the interloper. Morphology transcends the objet d'art. Sometimes the missing is that which creates the substance. Visually and with tactile developments, the artist evokes both emotion and recognition.
The “Chicken and the Egg” quandary comes to mind, was the vision there prior to execution? Or was the vision only after completion? Having seen, sketched and gestated upon, was that iconic piece finished with the exception on simply laying down some paste? Conversely, was that final product in mind all along and the dreaming, sketching and cogitating was simply a road needed to be travelled to get there?
Cats on the other hand have no apparent volition. Mere momentary mental mythical monstrosities managing their movement at any one time. One moment calm and serene, the next a devilishly Tasmanian frenzy of motion. The feline foibles are vastly underrated. Unlike the, on first glance, method of application of a thick past on thin canvas. Did Van Gogh paint in a flurry or in a slow intentional baste of oil on velum?
While I write in response, I see the digested words of others and wonder. Can I or would I write in a way contrived to be desirable or even cogent? I have. Innumerable pages of it in past lives. Dissertationous pablum directed at a small cadre of consumers. I am beyond that now and simply inspired by the life in a day of what I see and experience.
Unusually a Cappuccino Corrine, make it emblematic.
Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019, also A.C., Cee Minus.
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