The title of this blog story seems - at least to me - perfectly fitting to my personality, adequately named for the way I am, the state of my house a living destimony to my day to day affairs...
Never knowing exactly what the outcome will be when I start my freaking around with my plastic jars of acrylic paint, my brushes chosen at absolute random, the details totally unimportant to me while I move into my lttle mental Buddhist prayer cell, my acoholic contacts from the Amsterdam streets and parks sitting around me while I stand in front of a canvas, wooden board or drawing paper, they drink my cold to the touch beers stolen from my Frigo, exchanging their latest street cr*p while skinning up another joint, telling me about De Neger who lost his house after eight months of Pas DE Payer his rent, his dole money going into a bottom less pit called Chasing The Chinese Devil, smoking Lady Heroine more important than paying his Alquiler...
I don't listen to their weird sh*t but paint and paint wishing on a sub-conscious mental level they weren't here...the outcome you see in this picture, I guess they are there too though I seem unable to detect them in this piece of chaotic art.
No comments:
Post a Comment