I slept for many hours and dreamt vividly and positively. At one point my dream was of the four seasons, experienced like a film or artwork. I seemed to be changing them, as though editing the film, while discussing them with someone, a female observer in the strange space we inhabited, like a sports hall.
I painted three things in the day. First, I trimmed the canvas for 'Old Lazy Candle Shouting At Innocent Baby Candles'. This was originally framed in my old-style pine box frame, with visible screws, but I have become unhappy with the look of these, and have been gradually replacing all of them; so, I de-framed it. I found that the painting nearly fitted the outer frame of G114A 'The Time For Love Has Nearly Flown'. That frame was a little too small, so I decided to trim the Candle painting to fit, partly because the balancing of the composition was, if anything, better by being trimmed.
The recess of the new frame was a lot smaller, so I needed to paint over upper and lower areas which were unpainted, so I did this today.
Then, I glazed a new painting 'We Are Dreams Questing For Dreams'. I (probably) painted this in 2022; I at least painted it on a spare canvas board cut to size, using some remaining paint at the end of a painting day. I kept this sketch, and looking at it again, decided to continue the painting today, and so added a glaze layer.
I used just safflower oil, rather than my usual amber medium. The painting was improvised, though followed my typical themes; starting with a blue 'sky', a sandy 'floor' and adding structures and figures. It seemed to be a man striding, made from blown sand, walking towards a palace. I thought that it seemed to reflect an idea of hope for something better in this dust-blown life.
After that, I painted the colour study to Inspection At Theresienstadt.
At all times I listened to Beethoven's final years and moments in the BBC Radio 3 'Composer of the Week' special serial, from 2020. I was again moved. The transience of life, the hope and hopelessness of art. Where can I show my art? Beethoven felt special, vastly better than others, he recognised his talent. I feel this too; yet I know, unlike him, that everyone feels like this, that everyone feels that they are special - maybe not immensely special, but everyone feels a bit better than the rest and wants appreciation for their unique and special talents.
In the afternoon, Deb visited for a Fall in Green rehearsal, for tomorrow's charity performance. Without her I would be as misanthropic and hateful as Beethoven; but we have each other, she is my world.
