"Written These Words of Mine"
This piece represents the last of a long series of abstracts I've done over the past several years that employ "scribbles," much in the same manner Cy Twombly was so famous for, and that are painted in a series of rather complicated layers, each of which is allowed to dry thoroughly before proceeding on to the next step. This painting is featured on the "Evolution of a Painting" page on this site. I documented with photographs each stage in the development of the painting, and these pictures are posted on the "Evolution" page with accompanying textual descriptions of each step. This painting is the LAST painting I will ever do in this style; I feel that I've said pretty much everything I can say with this particular style. So this painting represents a milestone in my painting career. Get it while you still can!!
The painting is 18" x 18". $150. Mixed media on canvas. The entire painting is finished off with a coat of flat Mod Podge as a sealant and to protect the collage items and prevent them from peeling off or yellowing over the years. The edges of the painting are covered with torn scraps of painted unstretched canvas and are 1.5" thick. The edges, being so thick, and having been covered with the scraps of canvas, painted in an almost frenetic manner, make this piece really "pop" and make it all the more unique. Obviously, this piece need not be framed; in fact, it should NOT be framed, as the edges form an integral part of the viewing experience of the work.
The title of this painting comes from the first line of the last stanza of the poem that is collaged onto the piece on the left. The text of that poem follows:
narrow the old beaten trail, dusty with the winds of many summers, time crawling eased only by bad whiskey. forgotten the dreams of the ancients, whispering the song of the dead, cold and dessicated and lonesome. sorrowful the music of the nightingale, deep within the night-scent of orange blossoms, bathing the soul in merciless beauty. tired the old man of the sea, whose battle is careful and reckless, longing desperately for words. hopeful my heart of darkness, blood-red branches reaching always for the comfort of a springtime sonnet. written these words of mine, late deep late at night terrible, for one who knows me all.I can ship this painting; shipping and handling fees will apply and will vary according to purchaser's location. For more details regarding shipping and handling for this piece, or to ask any other questions you might have about the painting, please send Kevin mail. Thanks!