Alyson
I have this idea for a painting. It came to me on a not-great night, but that’s generally how things happen. It’s a thigh, with the curvy part being removed. It’s not gory or even bloody: It’s like a Salvador Dali painting in the way that this major event is happening, but the world around it is like, “lol chill, it no big.” The knife hovers between the newly butchered leg and the “extra” cut away. The background is a light-ish indio blue, and the color scheme is blue and orange complementary. It looks great.
I tried to paint it today but I couldn’t bear to look at it. To give myself some slack, the leg as I imagined it is at the toughest possible angle—looking at it from the front but to some degree from the side. But what does slack matter when you simply can’t portray the image that says what you can’t? It was so one-dimensional that I couldn’t even comprehend what it was. I wiped it off with a makeup wipe because fucking oil can’t just be painted over with gesso. It now resembles a tan tree trunk with a nubby branch. Accurate.
I have spent two hours trying to calm the uprising inside me. I almost didn’t paint anything today because I was afraid that I would feel exactly like this. But I painted anyways. I’ll be proud of myself today for painting anyways. ♦