In conversation with..

'I don't paint things. I only paint the difference between things.' -Henri Matisse

I'd hang it in my house, so would you I s'pose.
Its the sort of thing that you can eat dinner with, and not experience that peculiar unease that the realists invariably bring about when in the same room as you.

Marvelous, no doubt. Their ladies sparkle, their gowns are divine.
But I rather prefer food that smiles.

Bubbling wine, blue and pink and fluorescent.
At least,
That's how it tastes in my mouth.

And as I write this inadequate ode to Matisse, I'm sipping an ice tea that makes me think of a coffee swirl. A lemon half. The musty feel of my mother's books. The vintage music covers of the Weepies.

'I have a penchant for scenarios that juggle with the natural order of things. Sometimes one discerns an incongruous situation which is always camouflaged by common sense. If I spot one, my first move is to put it down on paper before it gets forgotten. Assume you're lying on a beach. You're bored and to entertain yourself you play a game of mental sightseeing. You float your nomad eye high above ground, move it around, look down, look behind things, and look back at yourself. The two eyes perceive, the third eye divines, the mind's eye composes, the nomad eye explores. Not many people know they have one.' -Alan Fletcher

I don't like the colors in this painting, its, to put it crudely, loud.
Anything too extreme has a habit of repulsing one when we first encounter it, and this painting makes me feel like I'm being screamed at.

I may not like it, but there's something in this painting that gets to me every time I see it.

Notice the force with which the purple curtains are flying up, almost out of the painting, towards you.
I'm convinced the pot's going to topple over any second.

'Paul Klee always knew when something was finished because instead of him looking at the subject, the subject began looking at him' -Alan Fletcher




I love everything about this painting. I love the fact that there are no people there.

I wouldn't have minded just one person there, then I could have made believe it was me.
People ruin things, and there are some things not worth sharing.

I'd sit in my blue chair, gladioli on my table, have my own conversations, sit poised inside a Matisse on my wall in a infinite reality world. Coffee table world of quiet conversation, and barefoot intrigue.

'In love, the one who runs away is the winner.'

-Henri Matisse

What cynics we are, Matisse.


Beethoven Piano Sonata No.17 in D Minor.

I picked this one simply because I was listening to the above piece when I came across it.
Now, that I'm actually writing about it, Mozart's Requiem Mass in D Minor is playing, and I suddenly realise that I do not like the color of the piano. The brown is such a disappointment, unnecessary. And I know its more Mozart and less Matisse I'm under right now when I think that for some, definite reason the piano couldn't be anything but brown.

I like the painting, I just do. In a forgettable way, in a smile while accidentally meeting someone's eye way. In a sad, why don't we keep in touch way. I can't explain it, and I can't explain the painting.

'I do not literally paint that table, but the emotion it produces upon me.'

-Henri Matisse

Its easy to acquit the people in paintings, they can't wake up and disappoint you again.

I don't know why I wrote this, only that I enjoyed it.

Perhaps, I do.

I think it was because you make me question myself, and I had to acquit myself, so I turned myself into a painting. A Matisse.

But I s'pose you don't like him either.