Being culturally Christian means that I can only see the pigeon feet as a crown of thorns.... The broken bird, Christ like, turns the sheep skeleton into a mother cradling her son .... and the whole thing becomes a strange pieta.
At the end of the day though it's a sheep skeleton, dead bird and pigeon feet. A simple collection of remains. Simply relics.
To get it right proved tricky, and this is supposing that to any degree I have..... got it right.
Ideas are all very well but the process is always a battle, a negotiation, an accomodation with stuff ..... This time paint.
Can I move it around, lighten it. darken it. Brush it on, Scrape it off.... I don't find it easy.
While I painted I listened to Cohen, to Joanne Harris' 'Holy Fools'. To every crime offering Radio4e iplayer could offer up. The listening is not concentrated. Sometimes nothing is heard so a thing can be played over and over like a mantra. Whether the whole is ever absorbed ......?
The bones were easy enough. The bird was a bugger!
Well anyway.... It's pretty much finished now. Probably more strange than tender .... but I hope a little of both.
My Dad wonders why I do this ....If it were a commission, it would count as a job...
I suppose all I can say is ... it drives me mad yet keeps me sane (ish)
There will be a break for a while now, while I go into schools and make some stuff with kids. Kids like making stuff even the ones that moan loudest....
You paint, therefore you am. xx John.
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