Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
In fact, to launch me in a fabric, it is incredible the time which I devote to the drawing, and even upstream, with simple barbouillis.
As I farfouille of the feature on the sheets, I straightforwardly took the practice to throw what occurs, as if I balladais myself to the foot of the fabric, in which I will throw myself by generating a chaos where I am well the only one with knowing, it is certain, that there is, inevitably what I decided, even if I do not know at all how I will leave myself there.
Excluded this research on the bullfighting which absorbed me a certain time, let us say it, I did not keep preparatory drawings much.
I regret it each time I go to a expo, noting that what interests me more, they are precisely these drawings, in the other painters.
All occurs as if the drawing were a prolongation of the gesture and thought so familiar and easy, that that relates to only me makes some. Blow, I have evil to plan to give it to see.
The drawing, it is a form of introspection, private ballade I believe. While painting, it is the field of the challenge where I do not control anything by advance. Admittedly, if I were satisfied with the figurative one, it would be simple. But actually, it is as if I had passed on the other side of the mirror, in a space without terminals where the idea to build direction does not depend any more but on me. And there, all that I know of the drawing, the light, the construction of the forms, the plans, the structures me comes to assistance with the color which definitely will always surprise me. I adore to think that I know nothing the whole there. It is an indescribable souk which I generate and then that is ordered little by little.
I have liked the oil-base paint only I practise for one year because of a wound to the right arm. I finally will be able to again raise my hand as before and to set out again with the acrylic resin less obliging which allows me all this tumble upstream of which I have the feeling to be able to fly without least gravity.
I see it well by teaching, that the oil-base paint, that adheres, that sticks, that allows to slip without taking of risk. It is extremely comfortable for people who cannot draw at all. I make them make “miracles”! But when one feels more graphic designer that painter as in my case, the oil-base paint is a glue, something which prevents from really leaving reality. I live it in any case, like that.
posted by Catherine cisinski At 6:10 AM 0 comments links to this post
seek matadors
posted by Catherine cisinski At 5:51 AM 1 comments links to this post
Friday, June 09, 2006
And hop!
… a small visit with the goddess-mothers
history to awake a time which passes
by Boticelli, makes a wink with this art
conceptual of which arrogance of the thought
single wants to give to believe that it produces
ever made, original.
However these original sources of inspiration
date neither more nor less of XVIIème S.
before J.C.
Astonishing, not??????
posted by Catherine cisinski At 12:17 PM 1 comments links to this post
In all its forms and with all the tools, it is not any fabric which does not come from a ceaseless graphic research, as if the drawing appeared a track of launching, a long crossing which springs towards the color.
Proof that the drawing flirte with the writing since to draw, read, write what all that gives rise to think, are activities which are combined always at the same time.
To paint opens then the place with idiocy fleeing the words and any semantics reasoned by advance.
To draw of a feature the movement, the presence of the light, it is unpur work of funambulist to cut the soufle. And yet, what I smoke then!
posted by Catherine cisinski At 11:59 AM 0 comments links to this post
Thursday, June 08, 2006
It is the bullfight…. format 60 F, fact of acrylic resin and sands.
entiende?
As I farfouille of the feature on the sheets, I straightforwardly took the practice to throw what occurs, as if I balladais myself to the foot of the fabric, in which I will throw myself by generating a chaos where I am well the only one with knowing, it is certain, that there is, inevitably what I decided, even if I do not know at all how I will leave myself there.
Excluded this research on the bullfighting which absorbed me a certain time, let us say it, I did not keep preparatory drawings much.
I regret it each time I go to a expo, noting that what interests me more, they are precisely these drawings, in the other painters.
All occurs as if the drawing were a prolongation of the gesture and thought so familiar and easy, that that relates to only me makes some. Blow, I have evil to plan to give it to see.
The drawing, it is a form of introspection, private ballade I believe. While painting, it is the field of the challenge where I do not control anything by advance. Admittedly, if I were satisfied with the figurative one, it would be simple. But actually, it is as if I had passed on the other side of the mirror, in a space without terminals where the idea to build direction does not depend any more but on me. And there, all that I know of the drawing, the light, the construction of the forms, the plans, the structures me comes to assistance with the color which definitely will always surprise me. I adore to think that I know nothing the whole there. It is an indescribable souk which I generate and then that is ordered little by little.
I have liked the oil-base paint only I practise for one year because of a wound to the right arm. I finally will be able to again raise my hand as before and to set out again with the acrylic resin less obliging which allows me all this tumble upstream of which I have the feeling to be able to fly without least gravity.
I see it well by teaching, that the oil-base paint, that adheres, that sticks, that allows to slip without taking of risk. It is extremely comfortable for people who cannot draw at all. I make them make “miracles”! But when one feels more graphic designer that painter as in my case, the oil-base paint is a glue, something which prevents from really leaving reality. I live it in any case, like that.
posted by Catherine cisinski At 6:10 AM 0 comments links to this post
seek matadors
posted by Catherine cisinski At 5:51 AM 1 comments links to this post
Friday, June 09, 2006
And hop!
… a small visit with the goddess-mothers
history to awake a time which passes
by Boticelli, makes a wink with this art
conceptual of which arrogance of the thought
single wants to give to believe that it produces
ever made, original.
However these original sources of inspiration
date neither more nor less of XVIIème S.
before J.C.
Astonishing, not??????
posted by Catherine cisinski At 12:17 PM 1 comments links to this post
In all its forms and with all the tools, it is not any fabric which does not come from a ceaseless graphic research, as if the drawing appeared a track of launching, a long crossing which springs towards the color.
Proof that the drawing flirte with the writing since to draw, read, write what all that gives rise to think, are activities which are combined always at the same time.
To paint opens then the place with idiocy fleeing the words and any semantics reasoned by advance.
To draw of a feature the movement, the presence of the light, it is unpur work of funambulist to cut the soufle. And yet, what I smoke then!
posted by Catherine cisinski At 11:59 AM 0 comments links to this post
Thursday, June 08, 2006
It is the bullfight…. format 60 F, fact of acrylic resin and sands.
entiende?
Friday, June 16, 2006
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