Each month, write a new collection.
On Edward HopperI see Lonely Stoic StaticIn your work.Isolated bodiesBoxy homes Dropped incognito From the sky.There’s a self portrait Of bored disinterestToo self absorbedTo let the viewer in.Its embarrassing actuallyBecause in my worst momentsYou mirror Me.
Oh that last stanza is incredible. Send this one out!
Have you ever noticed how deceptively simple the Dutch portraitists are?Over and over again everything’s black but then there’s thatPinch of brown, a brush stroke of pink and then the collar’s whitenessPointing up towards a miraculous face — those unique physiognomies — Every portrait a startling expression with nooks and crannies unlike any other. I don’t paintReal people like that; the faces are featureless — except when I portray myself.
I love that.
I am not a Hopper fan particularly. I agree with you John that there's something inhuman and very cold about how he makes work. But I was crazy for that early self-portrait on the wiki page and reading the bio made me think of the northern renaissance and those remarkable portraits. Then I settled on an acrostic -- i wanted something a bit formulaic, because Hopper could be formulaic. I come away with a new appreciation for him as an artist.
Edward Hopper Summer Interiorseveredraining lifepull awaythe worlddoes notexisti amlo longeri
And I love it. A true T2 piece!
That's:i amno longeri
Note to technology: google needs a proper "edit" button to edit blog posts
Isolated, Self-inflicted DepressionEverything is just finesays the paintingdon't worry about meit wallows in self pityI'll get along somehowsays the paintingisolated in its own mental filthit's my burden to baresays the paintingnobody understands meand nobody ever willsays the paintingdon't trouble yourselfI'm not worth savingsays the paintingI want to be aloneI don't fit insays the paintingdon't try to change meI'm too far gone to be savedsays the paintingthere's n joyI don't deserve to be happysays the paintingin my own private hellI've created
Love this! It's surreal and wonderful!
There is empty space, a windowvery few people. Only thelines converge towardsperspective. The true meaning is the artist’s reserved space.Do not intrude.