Here is a discussion that may be gibberish, a fleeting thought on the power of art without words, and acrylic paint and watercolor.
There’s something about acrylic paint. Not just that it’s a little heavier, a little darker, or even a little stronger. Because those are all things that it has, in a sense, but that’s not really it. There’s power in painting anything. i don’t really mean landscapes, but more ideas that come out of the mind, and force themselves onto the canvas. The paintings that one might look at and claim doesn’t make any sense. The ones you look at to find what you think the artist was trying to say, or what you think it says, what you think it means. And that’s why I think there’s something powerful in art that is not clear cut. Whether it be choreography, whether it be books that people denote as peculiar…which is so rare nowadays, poetry, painting, even clothing. There’s just something profound about taking a single idea, and making something that could change lives, change thought processes, add to a person, subtract from them. Art has an influence that many might not be quick to admit. You don’t want to believe that the media you watch has any effect on you, but it does. It does because a musical, a play, a show on a television network, those are all art. And I find it beautiful the millions of different interpretations that could be taken away from one piece. You look at a glop of clay on the floor of the MoMa, and you are changed. If even in the slightest way, something changes. You see something in that clay. What you think it means, and it becomes a part of you, a sacred knowledge of something both known and unknown.
There’s something about acrylic paint. It seems to carry a permanence that watercolor does not. The heaviness gives me satisfaction. The heaviness feels like it has power, as it crosses the canvas, and makes what was once transparent opaque. It makes something beautiful to me, when a solitary idea, voiced or unvoiced is released with a perspective of something in this dark, messed up world. One can look at it, and see something that wasn’t there before in a sense…because you can’t really know something until it hits you. Until it is placed right in front of you in this long, winding path of life demanding attention, to be acknowledged, to be seen. I feel that a lot of times written art is not always acknowledged like art like paint is, but today, as I look at an old painting of mine, as look at pictures of paintings and think of what I’ve seen. I couldn’t help but notice the contrast between the power of acrylic paint compared to the temporary state of watercolor. I don’t know, there’s just something about acrylic paint.