I don't know if anybody has noticed ? but at the moment I am elsewhere again keeping a daily diary as an artist loosening up, as a diary project boosting my creativity, as a test, or as a test field, or a test run, a test drive of how to do it in other ways than what I have found good and done before, done my creativity boosting and painting and working on in my other art practices in the past, and this time I am doing it in Finnish to be focusing more, more fluently on the emotional side, and for a long time since in Finnish, again. As a practice, while working on my paintings and on my art, my aim is to let my mind wander around freely. It pays off. I get ideas. I get a lot of ideas. I get such an abundance of ideas. Inventions. I do not know at all, where they come from. They occur. I do not make them up. They come out of me. Through me. I do not know where they come from. Incredible dialogues of unknown figures. Poems start to occur. This wonderful phenomenon is all conceptual, verbal, words. It is not emotional, but if not let out, it would block my emotional side. I need my emotional side to paint. In fact, I need it to live. I am full of conceptual, verbal, words. I am full of it. I am so full of it, and it comes out in some weirdly understandable format, and I do not make it up, I do not have to edit it even, or sit down to create it, or write it deliberately composing anything, no, it just pours out, leaks out of me, I do not select a topic, it is random, like an absurd stream of a mystic soup, that has been brewing inside of me since the last time I let it pour out of me, in the meanwhile just some droplets dripping out of me every now and then, sometimes a lava stream of a volcano, sometimes a gentle mist, but there it is, there it is all the time, it is there, it exists in me, in me, me unaware of it, but it has to come out at some point, it has to, all of it. And it does. Gradually all balances out, I get cleaned and I start to paint. Clean paintings, bright colors, clear visions. No figures, no words, no lines, no stories. Just the depth and the distance and the space. The dimensions. The composition. Until then, all kinds of crap comes out, first on the canvas too. Some of it is good crap to watch, good to pass on, even, and some of it gives joy to the viewers. But what has been the common indicator, always ? My own good working space. A studio. With good high windows, silence, and the light. The total self-determination, and freedom, comes with this. Is with this. Is this. It is absurd, but so it is. I wrote a poem about it today, Publishing it in Writer also, in a minute, and probably later in that diary of this year. The need, or realization of the relevance, or the essentiality, or the - becomes more visible, tactile, haptic even, each day I am again awaiting the light, aware of the speeding time, aware of me, and all those existing now in the false leading direction, not being aware of these as a whole, a holistic whole, a happening happening. I can do all this, even now, but oh how I could do it, if I had a studio. The poem goes like this : - 2018-02-18 Sunday17:41- almost at 18:00 - me as a studio artist versus me as a kitchen artist When in a studio, I have all the time in the world, and there is no time, time is a remote, abstract concept, conceptual abstraction, not existing to me. I am flying in the free space without time. Because I have time, I do not have time. I am there, but I is not too much. Without a studio, I am trying to accomplish something inside a timeframe. I am running on empty given time table surfaces. Love, Sex, Art, Freedom, and an own studio. written published in A I R B O R N E by © 2018 Tiina Hölli 18.02.2018 23:06 me as a studio artist versus me as a kitchen artist |
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... says she
doesn't give a flying fck, [ paskat nakkaa ] but still thinks amazingly much about Nothing ... and Being ... ... has some Knowledge about Nothing and / or vice versa. [ Loves Immaterial ] F. A. Q. : W T F Tiina Hölli : - Lila -
Read Robert M. Pirsig 2005 acrylic on board 19 x 130 cm A I R B O R N E
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