Wednesday, July 7, 2010
An artist friend once gave me one of his paintings. Done in hues of blue and green it depicted a dog inside a courtyard. The dog was barking at a man who has been caught in the act of climbing over the courtyard wall. The title of the painting was The Intruder. A few days after hanging the painting I noticed vague shapes and silhouettes beneath the paint. I remembered that my friend often painted over old canvases and I realized I was seeing the traces of an earlier painting. The longer I looked the more I saw. I saw how tenuously the new rests upon the old. I saw how the past is always intruding upon the present. I saw how every story is shaped, at least in part, by the stories that came before.
Posted by Tai at 12:20 AM