I don't mind thunder storms from a distance. It's those loud booms and cracks that make you jump (don't like adrenaline rushes) that bother me. It's like I like the deep sound of a Harley (though not when the guy sits there revving), but the sharper sounds from the "rice rockets" are annoying. I still like the old rock ‘n’ roll music, but no longer cranked loud. I don't like loud voices, especially angry voices or those false, loud, excited, pumped-up-trying-to-sell-you-something voices.
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| "The Hill" still in process; getting close to being finished. |
Quieter, softer ... hmmm ... that's even coming through in my painting. Instead of pushing for those sharp photorealistic lines (when I’ve never strived to be a full photorealist), I'm learning that it's OK to have softer lines, more impressionistic backgrounds ... which is something I wasn't conscious of before because I don't really like impressionism. I wanted sharp, clean lines … like my photography.
It’s funny, too, how my art is turning to be more like me. I’ve described myself as being soft, and fuzzy around the edges, and now as my art gets looser, it too, takes on more fuzziness. (Though I still want some sharper lines.)
Maybe I am closer to an impressionist painter instead of a realist, and yet, even those lines blur. I don’t quite have my finger on it, yet. But I’m coming into a greater understanding of life and art.
I still have to do things my way; figure things out my way. I don’t, and never have, fit totally into one category and probably never will.
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