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| Mixed media with acrylic |
I like colour on the wall. White leeches the colour out. I know white is supposed to be neutral, a blank canvas even, but it is also a kind of statement of intent, of cool of refinement. It can also be the opposite, white as testament to apathy or inertia, a lack of imagination, or of the will to impose or bring into existence. I find it can be just sterile, reserved, still born. Lives lived in white are the lives of the rich, of the sterile at heart, detached, removed. Those who move in the rarefied worlds of clean and perfect white, penthouses, steel and glass, drifting through an unreality. Real life gets messy. Real life assails them through the cracks. Dust motts rain down like solar radiation, unstoppable accumulative. Piling up in corners and drifts. This is life/death breaking through. White has a close affinity with all of deaths costumes. Life ruptures, breaks through like an arrow of light shattering the amnesia of white sheets fluttering like gloved hands. Flotsam on the drains edge catching in eddies.This orange is a bit deeper than the orange that preceded it but I like the depth it seems to have in the shadows, it almost flares as you cast your eye about. Under the murky light from the eco bulb the night colours are soft - but put on the kitchen light and the harsh light of day spreads an unforgiving shadowless cold light that flattens and exposes.
