maandag 1 februari 1988

Then came a time of trying, finding ways to speak with paint

When the smell of oilpaint first passed my nostrils, took a turn to the left and decided to stay...

”Her silence”

The water did her flowing
turning, twirling to the left
She watched
Her feet embraced
the surface of a flat stone
Her fingers watched her
from strange positions in the water
Stopped watching
when she felt her thoughts dragged out
The stream was grinning
Ruthless sun burning
Invisible voices stopped for a moment
& her silence held it all between two fingers

oil on canvas
(40 x 50)

”I’ve got three voices to talk to thin air
Not one of them needs to be heard”

oil on canvas
(65 x 80)

”Will I sleep on a mirror tonight
& break it with my dreams?”

oil on linen
(65 x 80)

The last ones both have been sold. The second one really was a trade for a cooler, that, after a very long and succesfull carreer finally passed away. Softly. With a smile on it's door.

vrijdag 1 januari 1988

One of the first works ever, if I'm right this piece of plywood used to be the backside of a cupboard... The first load of oilpaint and brushes came from two deceised granddads...

”Curle up & hide”

Senseless in a way of speaking
I close my eyes and feel
the inside of my egg-shell
Perfectly round, a million familiar spots
No reason to get out of here
but curiosity and a strong urge to
stretch my leggs
Senseless in a way of speaking
I open my eyes and feel
the sharves of my egg-shell
Divided, broken, a million now alienated spots
No possibillity to get back in there
Just a little fear and a strong urge to
curl up and hide
We’ll all grow up to be wise children

oil on plywood
(45 x 65)