18 February 2008

i have something i want to say

I am starting this post knowing I that will edit it many times along the way, over the next 24 hours. Why put it out there raw, unfinished, in draft? Because then I will write it, and I need to, to clarify my thinking. But if I write it in Word on the computer, it will remain unfinished, will not see light of day. And I will remain fuzzy in my thinking.

In my art, the art I have yet to make, I have something I want to say.

Sarah wrote a very challenging post on her blog, February 15, entitled "What is Art?"

She writes as well as she paints. She forces me to think. She challenges me. And sometimes she rescues me.

My art is my voice. But I haven't found how to say what I want to say. I want to shout on behalf of the people with no voice. I want to show you what I see. I want to change how we see, expose the realities, as Alan Duff and Lee Tamihori did with Once Were Warriors . And so I paint, but I don't say anything. Not yet.

When I painted the works for Cassino, I began to use my art to speak. But then life got in the way, earning a living, sorting my head and emotions, living in a new country. I need, not want, need to use my voice.

I introduced you to Bruno. He is waiting for me to comment on his last two months' work about the situation in the Philippines. It sits in my inbox, only partly digested. It is really really interesting, but there is a lot to read, too much for me to learn. It scares me, how ignorant I am. I wonder where my head has been in recent years. Sometimes I feel so very very small, and I even wonder if my brain really functions all the time. I am ignorant of many things, but I do care. I care a lot about my fellow men. And so Sarah's post struck a nerve, hit where it hurt.

I live a "dream life", living and painting in Italy. The problem is, that is not my dream. My dream is to make a difference, to help right some wrongs, to show that there can be hope, that strength and personal resolve can triumph over adversity. I don't have the knowlege that Bruno has. I don't have the skills and resources of Alan Duff and Lee Tamihori. But I do have my painting.

Alan Duff put books in homes. It is a wonderful programme, and so simple an idea. Children who had no books now have books of their own in their homes. Newborn babies are given their first books. Another New Zealand group I know of puts breakfast into the tummies of hungry children on school days. The children have at least a chance of being able to learn without the distraction of hunger. These people make a real difference.

I want to put images in minds. I want to put ideas into form. That's what I want. I have something I want to say. That's what I must paint. And none of that has anything to do with painting pretty pictures for people to buy.

1 comment:

Sarah said...

It's funny how it works out. 'Share Your Tears' was never about selling pretty pictures. But they are the most beautiful paintings I've made.

*blows kiss*

You will find your voice, if you don't look for it too hard.