Tuesday, July 13, 2010


... a painting starts to grow.

It's kind of corny or perhaps can be mistaken for being too predictable of creative individuals, but when emotions are starting to build up and there's a need to pour it out a bit, they (including this writer) tend to to do something tangible about it. Musicians write songs. Dancers let their bodies flow. Writers, poets pen down stories and sonnets. And painters... well, what else would one expect of us?

That email caused this painter to lock himself up, throw away the keys, sit on the floor, caress his brushes and let the colors dance. Three days now and I am still dancing with my colors to a slow, sad song.

I am as blue as blue can be.

1 comment:

rudeboy said...

Thus Palma-Tayona's Blue Period begins.