small brush, plenty of paint- straight horizontal line across the canvas.
starting from a short line, getting longer then shorter again.
stacking of these straight lines become circular. mysterious.
brush runs linear but circular form comes alive vividly.
rule is not to cross the boundary of the circle.
drawn with rules and order, lines are transformed.
rebirth into contradictory nature.
would it be like rebirth to a spiritual being from a physical body, I wonder.
geometrical perfection is of no intention.
no ruler needed for linear brush strokes.
arm twisted and shaken makes line drooping down- I erase and start over on top.
traces of imperfection- lines that fault from intention- come to embrace what is to come.
some circular forms are distinct.
to accentuate the unclear circumference, circular lines are drawn.
sometimes, imperfection of the circle is left as it is.
all of a sudden, the order and careful scheme become suffocating.
then, even within small confines- violently- graphite and pastel stick held tight
let my spirit spill the unquenched yearning.
what's been poured out?.
a little disruption. but some pieces are lost.
decision should be made.
what do I want it to be?
the golden mean?
or rather, the Idea?
can a segment be revealed, providing a glimpse into the reflection of Idea?
circular form that floats in the space of each self - would it remain only as a combination of physical elements?
can it be used as a device that allows for another transformation?
we, combination of particles that float in the depths of the universe, can we transcend our physical selves? how?