give me a break

I am stuck,
I miss island life so much
I can't bear not to be surrounded
by the ocean - oh fuck
that it must be such,
I'm grounded.

So I paint
the missing piece
colors scattered,
but no stroke flatters
my fancy at all
there is no way
to replace
the real thing with
pigments on a flat face




At least I have a fine pool at my work-site, and I can plunge in whenever needed. Not everybody can share such luxury. But it is not the ocean, that's for sure.

So yeah, I paint to create the inner illusion that I am there, that I can smell and feel the salty breeze. This is my placebo for the real thing. Carving wood or chipping stones has to be put on hold - for now...

OK, so this is the stuff I do in my days off.
And now you know, and now you know also that I am a sick puppy catching up with life, limping down the alley called 'Atlantic Avenue' in search for the shores and the endless expanding horizons of a real ocean.
One day I will be free to call it "mine". And trust me, it will happen. I say this with confidence, because only artists are visionaries. The scientists (limp, LOL) scramble to catch up for every step done ahead by persons with creative intuition.
Scientists define boundaries, artists break them.
Scientists analyze what is, artists depict what can become. Scientists content themselves with mostly dead matter, artists observe the living world.
Scientist define chlorine as a deadly substance for living organisms when assimilated in certain quantities, artists just jump into the pool head on, no matter what.
I have a pool at my job-site.
But it will never replace the ocean.