Now this is just spooky…

The darnedest thing happened when I was working on this painting….

I’m not that keen on the idea of art as therapy, or art as self-expression. I don’t think these concepts make for good work, and I think that the artists who espouse those ideas are being thoroughly disingenuous.

When it comes to making work, I have a different  approach – I tend to allow things to present themselves to me. As a consequence, the work that gets made is often far better than anything that I would want to make.

Anyway, I had just finished painting the carpenters square for the second time for St. Thomas (trying to find the composition). I stepped back from the drawing board and looked at the image and this weird sense of “presence” happened. Both from the painting, around me, between us and in the room.

I’m not sure that I’ve described what happened very accurately. That’s the best way I can really explain it, though.

You can’t always explain experiences like that, and sometimes you shouldn’t try.

So I won’t.

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