Here was the original:
Pink, White, Green, and Blue
I paint.
Sometimes the paintings are statements concerning clashing cultures; sometimes they are fun; sometimes
you just need to get some emotion out; sometimes you want to daydream all night long; sometimes they
represent emotions you long to hold onto even if they should be gone; sometimes you can’t erase what
you’ve seen, heard, and done.
Sometimes, you just want to turn your back to the world because of what the world has done, with only
your shadow as a friend, so kind and dear, a copy made out of artificial light when the sun isn’t near. But
that doesn’t make things very clear in the world; it doesn’t make you anywhere; sometimes you have to
move out of that spot and get away, and not stay.
Painting isn’t a practice of craft but of my subconscious. I usually express the work I do as biographical.
They hold within them the emotions of experiences of the day or of events of my life. They are my
journal without words.
These paintings have been hidden away in darkness for a couple and few years (there are more). They’ve
locked away an experience that I’ve skillfully denied, only to surface in the form of sudden fear or bodily
sickness. Although the images represented may not obviously the situation, they hold emotions difficult
to eliminate.
Some of their titles are related, but for the sake of allowing an arbitrary meaning, a display of the
technicality, and hopefully to sever my emotions strings the titles are left as descriptions.
Three models were used.
