There is a light at the end of a long cave and we are moving sideways to it, but it is not easily that we move. There is a heave-ho resilience to the forward progress, a determination to go this way despite the unobstructed path towards the light. The light path is clearly visible to us and we choose not to go. Discipline. Making one’s own path out of duty or choice, or a choice toward duty. Maybe a duty toward responsibility, or a commitment to idealism. Any and all of these feelings had an ebb and flow around one another over the course of the six months this was painted in Southall. The figures in it, people or bird or just personified somethings, they interchange with one another the way people do in your dreams, conglomerates of each other and switching, morphic. This aspect of figures runs through each of the paintings I make, where characteristics rearrange themselves so we all become more of less of each other at any given point, sometimes simultaneously. None of this is intentional and only hindsight offers these realisations. It was the real beginning of independence motivation, balanced with the understanding that it was brought about by someone else who’s life is forever willfully affixed to yours.
I had a proprioceptive “vision”, if you will, one evening as I was falling asleep. I felt my body assume for itself the pattern of triangles and squares and simplified geometry. I was purified, fractalized into my most basic forms along with the room and it’s pieces of furniture. I felt very safe, with just the lamplight on and some midnight through the window as Anmol stayed awake and worked on his dissertation. My self-awareness entered a very subdued state and my mind felt long and smooth and flat.