Or how to make an oil painting in two minutes. Just film 3 weeks’ work and speed it up! Is it blasphemy or bondage? See more here.
Posts Tagged With: Religion
For the first time in 15 years, I’m painting again, exhibiting my work at the Sin In My Heart show in Manchester. Once upon a time, in Amsterdam, I had one of my oil paintings up in a sex shop. But as our curator, Paul Darling remarked, nobody goes to a sex shop to look at the art! When word went out that the theme of the new exhibition was sex, death, sin and religion, I put myself forward as a contributor. How could I not?
Announcing my new piece, oil on canvas 76x91cm, entitled X (the following is NSW) Continue reading
Rainbows, downpours and sunshine. March hares are jumping. Shooting buds and rising sap. I feel like Tigger. Happy Ostara, the return of the sun. Forget easter with the naked guy in the diaper and all those creepy Cross People. Just celebrate nature.
It looks like the whole tradition of Halloween goes back thousands of years, which makes me feel so much better when I’m walking around looking diabolical.
Mummery, or the art of disguise was supposed to confuse the spirits of evil by imitating them and confusing their dark hearts, rendering them useless.
Gotta love those Pagans, whose Gaelic heritage was plundered by the invention of christianity, and our loveable horny, primitive Satyr (the hairy drunken guy who will do anyone for a laugh) gets cast as Satan, Lord of Darkness. Sounds like a bum deal to me. Some of my best nights have been with Satyrs.
“Hurry, it’s beautiful.” Above the fir trees was a glaring ball of burning honey and blood. A sunset on the wrong side of the world. Huge and bright, waiting behind the chimney pots, and threatening to disappear beneath thickening clouds, The Harvest Moon. As I grabbed my camera, the tv chattered happily about an old king, now dethroned, who panicked when the money-lenders and merchants ran off with all the money.
Focus, night setting, keep still. Keep stiller.
The people were left to beg for food in the streets as the moguls fled to their off-shore towers, said the tv. My fiery moon was about to boil away, and be sucked up into the deep purple blanket above it. A rare and fleeting vision lost to shaky hands and digital zoom.
“If they can’t buy food or put petrol in their cars, they will just smash the windows and help themselves,” said the old king. My moment was fading fast. “Shall we put soldiers on every corner?” Just press the button. If you take a lot of pictures, one of them is bound to be good. And people think I’m a photographer.
In ancient times, people fashioned dolls out of corn as offerings to the great and indefinable moon. It would ensure a good enough harvest to survive the winter. And then Santa would come. As I tried to capture the magic on the horizon, I wondered what we could sacrifice today.
If we were Pagan.
Who would be screaming from the Wicker Man? Would the wolves in the shadows be slavering for Barbecued Bankers to fall? Would they leave the Religious Extremists because they were only half-baked? We would never get it past Health and Safety.