ALL WAS QUIET ON THE EASTERN FRONT

I've been at a standstill from a visual perspective lately, preferring instead to play with words and stories, or to observe the wild animals that have become part of my life over the last year. 

Saturday morning I had an urge, a huge urge, to rip, cut, tear through paper, to incorporate words into a work that has had me stumped for a while. It's been waiting for me to do something. When elements of a painting or drawing seem too precious to deface, I'm in trouble.

The piece I'm working on is small in scale but quite textured. I've been experimenting with acrylic mediums and skins, and sometimes the feel of the surface is so seductive that it's difficult to continue. 

Destroy to move on.

I often put work aside for days, months, or even years before my unconscious hints at a possible solution. I use to worry about piling up unfinished pieces but no more. I recycle parts, or gesso away areas that are trite or muddy from over mixing of paint.

So long, farewell, auf weidersehen, goodbye; time to start again. 

I scanned sections from a book and dictionary, printed them up, then tore up phrases. I glued these on the background. While the area was drying, I lightly painted the reverse of two acrylic skins. Skins are transparent so paint can be applied on either side. Gluing them on a textured background is an adventure, air bubbles can sometimes create unwanted bumps and cloudy bits. I rarely let acrylic "anything" (paint or medium) get on my hands, but with skins, I use my fingertips to ensure they completely adhere to the board.

I immediately peel the medium off me and hope like hell that I haven't shortened my lifespan by allowing carcinogenic chemicals penetrate my body via the pores of my hand. Stress contributes to disease, so I avoid thinking about it. I'm probably exposed to worse poisons on a daily basis via traffic, air and food.

The process is in progress!