I’m looking at the news, seeing what’s happening in Iran, seeing the women protesting, dying, risking their lives. I’m looking and I’m crying. From helplessness, from anger, from pride. I wish I had their courage. I wish there was something more I could do. More than posting and tagging. What I guess I can do is paint. I want to paint red. Listening to: Reading:
Pg154 Fire escape
„And it’s for her child that she finally gets angry. When she takes her daughter to a department store at Christmas and the white Santa treats her coldly, Maud Martha imagines a murderous assault on Saint Nick, yearning “to jerk trimming scissors from purse and jab jab jab that evading eye.” There’s no playing this scene for comedy: the incident leads her to confront a resentment “she could neither resolve nor dismiss. There were these scraps of baffled hate in her, hate with no eyes, no smile and-this she especially regretted, called her hungriest lack—not much voice.”
This is how Iranian women might be feeling, it takes monumental strength and courage to protest and risk lives knowing how dangerous the consequences can be. I guess this is how it feels to have nothing to loose.
MISTAKES: I prepped the pencil on canvas with glossy medium to make sure pencil won’t smear. SO FAR SO GOOD. I then got into squeezing the paints out. The idea was to try the free samples of amazing paints that were given to me by a friend who works in an art shop. Somewhere while squeezing I got distracted and grabbed paints that turned out to be acrylic, which I did not realise until I had finished painting using linseed oil!!! I have no idea what will happen now and how that will the aging of the painting overtime. Or maybe it’s an absolutely amazing interesting new result, which I might find useful? No idea, only that at the moment it looks ok but it’s still drying so only the time will tell I guess…Lesson learned: don’t loose focus when squeezing out the paints!!! Or do?