Have you seen those radical home makeover shows that live on the scary higher number cable channels?
You know- the ones where John and Mary Middleclass go out of town for a weekend to Daly City and when they come back their nest has been transformed into something Bill Gates owns for a getaway house where he might go to wrestle with the fact he is now only the second richest man of earth. Bill, I feel for you. I am here for you. Call me if you need a shoulder.
Well I got ’em beat. And in record time too. I transformed my bedroom into an art studio in something like thirty seconds. How? You might well ask. Easy–I picked up a brush and started painting again. Trick question, ha, ha.
Thankfully for my physical well being but not necessarily for the completion of the roof project it has been just rainy enough to not risk wasting precious energy and materials on capricious moisture attacks. So I have squeezed down my artistic pallet from 6400 square feet to 18 x 24 inches. A tad more manageable and not affected by the weather. Although I have noticed that good music and caffeine have a noticeable effect on the painting.
Regardless of the circumstantial inspiration, the first sugar cane mill on Kauai is being rebuilt on canvas. At least part of it anyway. The part that looks like a colorful collision of geometry (cylinders, trapezoids, cones, ovals), and physics ( how long does it take a bank of clouds to disperse if the upper atmospheric wind velocity is X times the square root of Earl Grey and does it ever reach its final dispersement if it’s speed is reduced by half the above velocity every other cup ) and elements of the French countryside ( Pierre, put down the damn wine and cheese and trim the giant bush that’s eating the quaint, rustic storage tank). I am finding it all pleasurably abstract while having some form and history that is recognizable. Maybe there is hope for the right side and left side of the brain to peacefully coexist.
I’ll invite you all to the grand reopening. Bring your own sugarcane.