Monday, September 26, 2016

Death and Art... a dream.

I just woke up a few minutes ago and I just want to put this down on paper to keep it on my mind.
The dream started with my wife and I visiting a old Victorian house that a local artist owned, we were on some kind of tour of the place and the inside was amazing. The artist paintings were all over and were fantastic a mixture of pre-raphaelite paintings done in a kind of colorful cartoon like style.  They were all in gold gilded antique frames and I wanted to own all of them.  I met the artist and he was young, gay, man with the style of HP Lovecraft.  the dream seems to flash forward in the future and I return to the house. From what I was told the artist had killed himself and his old mother was selling off all of his things, I walked through the house and all of the belongings were being sold off except for the paintings.  The  Mother was destroying them with spray paint, erasing all of the images of her son from them.  One painting that I remembered, I picked up and saw that spray paint had destroyed it and I started to cry, I ran to the Mother and begged her to give me the rest of the paintings so that I could save them for the future and that I would protect them with my life.  I explained that I was poor but I would make sure that they got the proper attention that should have... she refused.  I then woke up. 

I really don't know what this means but now I just can't get the images of these paintings and that house out of my head.  What does death mean to an artist?  Why do we care?

So now I'm forced to do those paintings...

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