This is a painting by Clementine Hunter named: Hunting For Blackbirds. I'm getting a book about her life. My heart is palpitating just thinking about these paintings. I read in
The New York Times that she started painting in her 50s. My brain feels like it's on fire when I read things like that... and when I see paintings like this one.
Words are a chore for me sometimes -- to say what I mean. I say something and then everything changes. The words aren't right anymore --I've changed my mind, the world has changed, something essential has vanished -- you name it.
Clementine didn't want to go to school. She picked cotton and as far as I know she was illiterate. (I will have more to say once I read the book about her life.) She said that painting is harder than picking cotton. I know this is true and I have never picked any cotton.
I will go and draw now ... and try to make the words a little more like paintings.
No comments:
Post a Comment