I am alive with creativity
My body tingles with force.
I am impregnating my painting with energy.
Only one outlet can take the force.
It will or would destroy any female willing to be a container for it.
Thank God I have realised all this, in time.
The entire evolutionary force of nature has got into my body.
The sparks of cosmogony crash out all around.
No wonder mandalas are appearing on the canvasses with crushing forcefulness.
We learn that each thing is unique.
But once wiser we see that nothing is unique in life, only life itself.
Life performs an impossible balancing act every day, every moment.
It is not fair that eternity should be allowed to finish first.
I feel that my favourite painters have ceased to influence me but now inspire me - particularly Van Gogh.
A large painting 6' x 4' is well on the way. I have worked on this at a faster rate and now after only several months it has taken on a final ethos, which previously in paintings of this size has taken perhaps a year or more to materialise.
This painting is called 'Synaesthesia - The Eternal Crystal'. It is blue, violet, grey, and has muted yellows giving an appearance of gold. The white paint is important and becomes meaningful on the brown linen Irish canvas.
The picture 'Synaesthesia - A Diamond is forever' is almost complete. It still looks ethereal and fresh and I must do nothing to overwork it, as any heaviness of imagery, where relevant in other works, would detract.
It seems that I have had a spiritual reawakening and strengthening. The names I am giving to my paintings indicate a strong inner feeling of contentment at the permanence of life and the universe. Pain on the emotional front with women has rebounded me back to a greater affinity and oneness with the power of light.
I am also much taken at present with Kahlil Gibran's thoughts that: - "The deeper the knife of sorrow cuts, the greater the capacity to fill up the 'container' with joy".
Today I listened to a brilliant radio adaptation of Oscar Wilde's "Lady Windermere's Fan". Two lovely and famous thoughts of Wilde were thrown up:
1. We are all in the gutter but some of us look at the stars.
2. There are only two great tragedies in life, one is not getting what you want, and the other is getting what you want.
Scattered thoughts jump through my senses. My mind looks for a definite structure and finds none. The 'beach' painting has turned into yet another mandala. This shock today has made me 'throb' and really search for painting ideas, but always the mandalas come back. They do not seem to be adequate for projecting the sum total of potential energy but neither does anything else, except perhaps bright colours exploding from a black background. I think I will try to utilise this latter recurring image soon.
I must find complete honesty somehow.