My mind raced in the night. I thought about the Dalai Lama, how he could spread a message of happiness and peace while also being a head of state and so politician; politics the antithesis of peace and happiness. Perhaps he can ignore the conquest of his country by aggressive China, yet remain happy in a peaceful defiance, and hope you encourage the Chinese leadership to become happy and peaceful. After 6000 years of civilisation on Earth, happiness and peace do not seem to have evolved to be good qualities for a head of state.
My beliefs are Stoic, accepting, not too different from Tibetan Buddhism. Spiritually, I feel closest to Shinto, the idea that all things have a 'soul' because I think this matches the emotional attachments the brain forms for objects as well as beings and collectives.
I painted, a simple painting of a burning heart; Sacre Coeur, a sacred heart, in darkness.
I watched the film Bohemian Rhapsody in the day. It was, oddly, both too long and too short, racing through events at the start but seemingly missing enough to lack connection, though I found it better and move moving than the similar Elton John film, perhaps because I like and resonate more with Freddie than Elton. The film made me feel artistically impotent, frustrates again at know what I can do and should do, but unable, but my skills are, at least, better than ever, even if unused for the time being.
Then, got back to work on the Salome masks, these accursed objects; so much more work than I'd hoped and so much worse looking than I'd hoped, but yes, with each iteration, they look better. My chalk gesso is fantastic, and I discovered that I can add water to make a sort of 'gesso sotile', a watery glaze which leaves no brush marks but covers previous ones. The whole process is and was very messy and time consuming, and the objects somewhat blobby and strange, but without doubt, I've learned a lot here.
So much of my life has been spent learning some technique or other, often to the detriment of other arts. I remember spending weeks working out how to cast ultra-thin sheets of plaster that I could cut into shapes. I mastered it in the end, making 3mm sheets that were glass smooth on both sides (I made a mould from 2 sheets of glass). The pieces sang with a tone when hit, and could be cut into the most beautiful and delicate forms. I used some for a painting called 'The Death By Explosion Of Moons And Keyholes', but after that haven't done anything with this, and have largely abandoned poured plaster.
Life feels like a trudge, and my constant stomach pain has returned, but I must stoically strive in my Sisyphean solitude, make and enact some good art plans. One job at least remains, the recording of the Salome music. I fear that the oil painting season this year, what should and could have been a great year, is lost, but I have many music ideas. I need more hours in each day.
