Just...

...to remind myself that I am still blogging.
This last series of pieces is being a traumatic affair. I'm used to the ceremonious, ritualized process of painting, painting with oil on canvas. I might be tempted to smear the whole canvas with one single color, but it still remains the process of painting.
This business that I am engaged in here and now is alien, damaging, dust in the wind...
I compose things in the computer. I have now gathered a substantial portfolio of pieces in digital form. I have a new HD. They all nestle there, new things, blinking in in the fresh dawn of their, perhaps, forgettable little existence. Sometimes I look at them, sometimes I add to them, sometimes I print from them. When I print they first hover as being either bland items on regular printing paper, or fancy objects on photo or acid free surfaces. They easily mutate into 3D objects, lavished upon with lashings of art material-like substances. They bend and roll, crinkle and sick to things. Why? Why the fuck do they need to go through all this. What force is responsible for this happening? When will I stop being its agent? Now the stupid things have developed a need to become embedded in the sheet-rock walls of my home, thus lowering the resale value of this real estate.
Paper sticking out of walls. Whoever heard of such a thing...