I'm not making abstract art. But this kind of drawing is making me dizzy because of pretending to be a bit Max Ernst. I am going to emulate my pretend mentor. I'm trying this out personally. It's supposed to be a good idea. He'd laugh.
His dad painted. And he lived in a mysterious forest. And the thing I had like him was fevered hallucinations as a kid. I got pukey and disoriented. The doctor gave me shots in bed at home to make them stop.
Does anyone not think Max Ernst was the greatest ever, ever? Are they nuts? Is their head off?
Who can have that much talent and not be murdered by it. Be completely killed by it. It would kill me. It could. Right? How could you survive it?
I can't believe he existed. It's like the bible. It's got to be made up. A team of fabricator's lying and lying. If not then I have to kill myself for being pathetic. Or go on a long fast to be purer. No food until I'm skin.
Why I ask you. Why? Why? Why? Why? I think he inspired artists too much. Now there's too many of us. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Do you think he liked knowing how it would make me feel, looking at his art, wanting to tear out my nervous system and convulse like a spastic colon, just spewing. What a prick!
Where is a pillow. I want to hug my pillow and snuggle. And die. But also I want to have one of those long artist lives like Hokusai, Matisse and George Grosz and all those other great art guys.
See my art Balls! They have potent flowers that are coming!
I've been broken into little pieces by being silly and by wishing. Boo. Look out for my little pieces.
Max Ernst lived in Sedona and I did too. He liked rich women who were into art. Apparently they adored him. I like any women into art but I like to be the richer one even when I'm actually very poor which has happened often. And I don't know if any of them loved me very much.
Miro was cool too. I'd like to have some of him too. My wife was happy to find something new on my blog today. Then she came home and fought with me. I added this and now I'm sad plus there's an echo in here.
I like this drawing. I am starting to enjoy doing drawings again. I've been really hating it for about 49 years. It started in Kindergarten when I noticed how pretty everyone else's paintings looked on their easels. Mine looked like poopy mud and my classmates wore there smocks like artists instead of like a diaper like me, for being so sloppy. They mixed colors better and also knew how to use them alone, like green only as green without other colors piled on. Everything I did turned into a shit looking mess. That's what happens when you use all the colors. Not white light. It just turns poopy.
I'm not making abstract art. But this kind of drawing is making me dizzy because of pretending to be a bit Max Ernst. I am going to emulate my pretend mentor. I'm trying this out personally. It's supposed to be a good idea. He'd laugh.
His dad painted. And he lived in a mysterious forest. And the thing I had like him was fevered hallucinations as a kid. I got pukey and disoriented. The doctor gave me shots in bed at home to make them stop.
Does anyone not think Max Ernst was the greatest ever, ever? Are they nuts? Is their head off?
Who can have that much talent and not be murdered by it. Be completely killed by it. It would kill me. It could. Right? How could you survive it?
I can't believe he existed. It's like the bible. It's got to be made up. A team of fabricator's lying and lying. If not then I have to kill myself for being pathetic. Or go on a long fast to be purer. No food until I'm skin.
Why I ask you. Why? Why? Why? Why? I think he inspired artists too much. Now there's too many of us. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Do you think he liked knowing how it would make me feel, looking at his art, wanting to tear out my nervous system and convulse like a spastic colon, just spewing. What a prick!
Where is a pillow. I want to hug my pillow and snuggle. And die. But also I want to have one of those long artist lives like Hokusai, Matisse and George Grosz and all those other great art guys.
See my art Balls! They have potent flowers that are coming!
I've been broken into little pieces by being silly and by wishing. Boo. Look out for my little pieces.
Max Ernst lived in Sedona and I did too. He liked rich women who were into art. Apparently they adored him. I like any women into art but I like to be the richer one even when I'm actually very poor which has happened often. And I don't know if any of them loved me very much.
Miro was cool too. I'd like to have some of him too. My wife was happy to find something new on my blog today. Then she came home and fought with me. I added this and now I'm sad plus there's an echo in here.
I like this drawing. I am starting to enjoy doing drawings again. I've been really hating it for about 49 years. It started in Kindergarten when I noticed how pretty everyone else's paintings looked on their easels. Mine looked like poopy mud and my classmates wore there smocks like artists instead of like a diaper like me, for being so sloppy. They mixed colors better and also knew how to use them alone, like green only as green without other colors piled on. Everything I did turned into a shit looking mess. That's what happens when you use all the colors. Not white light. It just turns poopy.
5 comments:
Excellent stuff.Superb melding of words and images.
Isn't that like life. If you mix too many of your colours (I'm talking metaphorically here, not races, PC brigade, thank you very much!) you just get shit. You gotta pick one or two solid hues and MINE THEM (Freudian pun) for all they're worth.
You've got to pick gold to get gold. Does that make sense? This post has inspired me to go and get a book out of my Uni library about Max Ernst. Thankyou.
Yes I agree. I'm trying more focus. My mom always said that if you handle onions you get peels, but if you handle gold you get rich. But what if you handle too many colors mixing and splattering them all at once all the time? You could end up with dark looking anally textures and get fame as a neo-expressionist genius! So I don't know what the hell that old polish peasant woman was talking about.
inspiring. insightful.
polish peasant woman! hahaha! yes! that's all she is!
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