Sunday Gods

The colour black absorbs all.

It is hungry.

It is the god of darkness and death, but it is not bad or good, it is just itself

and it has a dark sense of humour.

( yes I’m getting a lot of seizures at moment)

It is in the carpet and the wallpaper, in my mouth and under the bed.

I think the colour white reflects all and is the god of life.

(I’m talking as a painter, don’t ask me about physics!)

Everything I see is given from it

Life rejoices in its presence

It is not good of bad, it just is itself

It is in the wallpaper and the carpet

In the emulsion paint covering my bathroom walls

And the white of your eyes

It has a very innocent sense of humour

(My head hurts)

2 thoughts on “Sunday Gods”

  1. This morning my folks were considering a teenager we know who is getting more seizures. He takes care of himself. The prospect of intrusive surgery, and the risks, at that age or any age. It’s thanks to your blog that one can consider “is there a way of living with it which embraces it more than just fighting it, or being afraid of it?” That doesn’t necessarily offer answers, but it changes the focus from the seizures, back to the person.
    This blog post links with an exploration i’m doing into thought-forms: physical (artistic, mainly) manifestations of life paths and states and journeys. How choices are branches, and how geometries return to the same point or plane, and the geometries of moving on. Staccato of seizures, maybe, I dunno, that wasn’t in my own space-time lexicon before. And whether everything can be metaphor.
    As part of that, there is the colour-emotion palette within life phases – for individuals or the emotional fluxes of a society as a whole, as laid down in earth and the archaeological record. Black and white have the same significations in most cultures. And I just read this, this morning, which seems quite positive about black and white, in ‘Strange Labyrinth’ by Will Ashon. It’s about exploring Epping Forest looking for trees which were shaped into animal forms by monks a couple of hundred years ago, and what is left of incisions and twists of that old woody bestiary. Presumably a tree never gets lost in the forest. Do animals? Do tree-animals made by people get lost to themselves, and from our view, as they revert to bark and branches?….
    “I only found Court Hill because there’s an inclination when walking under trees to head towards the patches of light. Even if you try not to you find that you are. The sun marks out routes which otherwise aren’t there. The first time I came across this summit was also the first time I climbed a tree in the forest.”

    1. Thanks for that. I’m very interested in psychology, self, and local environment at the moment , so what you say sounds very intriguing to me. I like the look of your art works on the website as well.

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