He warned me when he began. He was so clean and neat and the whole place was white. The colours are so bright. What if he spills them?
As soon as he picked up the brush I relaxed. He is so dainty. So tiny in what he does. Small, controlled.
Now I want him to paint big. I want him to splash. I want colour to drip on the floor. Instead he dabs his brush so neatly in a napkin. People are blocking my view but that’s ok because I want to be surprised by what he has done when they move.
The paint has inched up the brush and he has white on his hands. It’s a stupid paintbrush and kids paints – the sort that aren’t really designed for painting. I know the feeling of frustration when the paintbrush and paints stop you from doing what you want. And the feeling of paint wet on your fingers instead of creative on the page.
The colours in the pots are bright but they look muted on the page. Pastel pretty. Dibby-dabbed on.
Oh God! the movements are so tiny. I’m claustrophobic watching but he is so focussed, concentrated. Maybe this is always how he works. Maybe he likes to paint small but I don’t think so. I can see tension in his hand. He dips straight into the colours now instead of mixing – becoming bolder.
I want go and see what he is painting. I don’t want it to be flower shapes I want it to be abstract. I would like him to be painting his impressions of us while we are writing our impressions of this moment.
Artist in the Zone
Blobbing the colours
Stroking the canvas
Blotting a fake?
Aileen Christodoulou (local)