(no subject)
When does the winding road end?
Everything is a cold shade of gray.
Last night, my charcoal dwelt on the paper so long that I could no longer find the direction in my drawing. I was lost in those hues of black, and I was so tired. I was so tied on to the theories that I lost my expression.
But then, I realised I was just not concentrating well too.
I want to seek solace in my drawings. Like the line of graves and battered trees that were imprinted against the skyline at the Chinese cemetery. I want to take a walk in the cemetery one afternoon because in every grave, there lies a skeleton which has a story to share. One day, I would be one of them too.
Some things are haunting. But nothing can be even more haunting than one's emotions. Inside the huge room tiled in pale blue and white, and dimly lit by a few dying white fluorescent lights, I quietly thought of a soul living in there. Every time I lifted my face and looked into the mirror tainted with seemingly rusty stains, I saw myself looking back into my eyes.
I want to be part of my depiction of that cemetery imprinted against that skyline. That piece of wide, green field tiled with weathered gray slabs of concrete in a singular file, one after the other, leading into the cemetery and with that huge blue sky hanging over it.
This video is so beautiful and poignant. One day, I want to paint out something like this.
Everything is a cold shade of gray.
Last night, my charcoal dwelt on the paper so long that I could no longer find the direction in my drawing. I was lost in those hues of black, and I was so tired. I was so tied on to the theories that I lost my expression.
But then, I realised I was just not concentrating well too.
I want to seek solace in my drawings. Like the line of graves and battered trees that were imprinted against the skyline at the Chinese cemetery. I want to take a walk in the cemetery one afternoon because in every grave, there lies a skeleton which has a story to share. One day, I would be one of them too.
Some things are haunting. But nothing can be even more haunting than one's emotions. Inside the huge room tiled in pale blue and white, and dimly lit by a few dying white fluorescent lights, I quietly thought of a soul living in there. Every time I lifted my face and looked into the mirror tainted with seemingly rusty stains, I saw myself looking back into my eyes.
I want to be part of my depiction of that cemetery imprinted against that skyline. That piece of wide, green field tiled with weathered gray slabs of concrete in a singular file, one after the other, leading into the cemetery and with that huge blue sky hanging over it.
This video is so beautiful and poignant. One day, I want to paint out something like this.
Click to view