Monday, November 30, 2015

A Rider


Most of my paintings for the last two and a half years have been painted in the 32-36X48” Mylar sheets, and I have got very comfortable with that size. Also, I have to admit, most of them don’t have much elaboration with the geometrical perspective. More or less, they all are situated in the same psychic space with no reference to a physical distance. In a way, I am waiting for the physical space, real or invented, to enter my paintings, but it might take some major change in imagination. My paintings are very much like my dreams, and my dream-space has nothing to do with the 3D.  
With the two latest paintings, though, I went to the 48X72”, doubling the size.  Now it is hard to justify.  Doubling the size is not a small thing to do, so I must have had a good reason. Yes, walking down to the shower stall by the full size mirror after the three-hour road bike ride. I’ve noticed the reflection there of a powerful female figure, beautifully and ugly simultaneously. Sweaty, red-faced, no makeup crone with the messed up hair had at the same time a youthful body dynamic that captured my imagination. And I have decided to paint a series of paintings of an actual size female figure. I am repeating myself here, but I have to, because doubling the size is not such an easy task. Doubling the size quadruples the time and magnifies the fear.
And now I am presenting the second painting of this size, and already I am promising myself to go back to my “old photographs” paintings that are practically miniatures compared to these monsters. Have I no pride?  Maybe it is just the lack of courage?
In any case, I am pleased with both large paintings…
I find it difficult, though, to keep repeating the same subject.
What I mean is that when I was starting with the ‘beautiful crone’ idea, I was going to make many of the same front figure paintings, but now I am looking at my second one and it already is totally different. Here we have a lady riding some unidentified beast, while talking on her cellphone, the fright trains and passenger plains dominating the landscape and the clouds looking down like some old gods. The painting has taken more than two weeks to paint and has reveled itself step by step, or one detail after another. When the narrative unveils like that, I neither question, nor judge it, because otherwise, I won’t be able to finish. It is corny beyond any reasoning, I know that, but what do I care? It looks unsophisticated, cute, and banal, and if I want to make sense out of it, it would get to nothing but laughter, exactly like with that old ugly lady with a beautiful body: a paradox, an impossibility, an embarrassment, so to speak, so what?