Somebody landed on this blog after asking a search engine the question: how to find king boletes in Ontario. I’d like the answer to that one too. Send me the map, won’t you?
I came across this strange video tonight. It features a duet with French bagpipes and accordion doing a polka suite. OK, it’s a bit off the beaten path. What’s really strange though, is the video is full of bizarre visual distortion – the background around the players is constantly shifting. I was starting to feel sea-sick watching it.
It would be interesting to explore some of the various bagpipe traditions around the world. For the longest time I thought the only bagpipes were the Scottish Highland pipes, but not so. I bet trying to trace pipe traditions would also teach a lot about world history.
I notice I become increasingly inarticulate when it comes to talking about my painting, almost as if I don’t want it to be infected by words. Words can sully a painting and cling to it and drag it down.
A few painters have a gift for words as well as paint. Francis Bacon is one of those:
“The creative process is a cocktail of instinct, skill, culture and a highly creative feverishness. It is not like a drug; it is a particular state when everything happens very quickly, a mixture of consciousness and unconsciousness, of fear and pleasure; it’s a little like making love, the physical act of love.”
Yeah. Like he said.
Starting a new set of paintings is a strange experience. I look at works I’ve completed as if somebody else painted them. How did I get there? Although I thought them up, I applied the paint, it seems that I’m helpless to answer.
I have 7 canvases set up in my little studio ready to go and I’m stalling.
This is me practicing Spotted Pony. Key of D, CC tuning capo 2nd fret.
Chat! Cat! Katt! Kedi! Kissa! Mao! Gati!
in any language, a cat at home is a ton of fun!