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Fuck This Digital Shit

… or how I got back to analog painting. 

It was Friday evening… well, night actually, and I was browsing the art of Meso and South American natives. Searching for the inspiration, stealing ideas if you like or maybe just relaxing the contents of my skull by taking a break from one of my depressive episodes.

Lines and shapes started playing in my mind so I fired up the computer. But if there is one thing we can be certain about technology, it is that it will fail us when the creativity calls. 

Blender was persistently segfaulting (don't ask me what's that exactly, it crashes it), the graphics tablet was kicking the pointer in the corner of the screen, and the objects had the tendency to become invisible when the brush approached them. Well, it's kind of hard to model something if you can't see it. 

In all these decades, I never developed resistancy to computer-caused frustration so I kicked back to bed, ready for another strike of really really bad mood and contemplations on world, life and everything else broken and dysfunctional.

I guess the irritation by the technology was too strong, though. Which causes the other side of the bipolar see-saw, one called the manic:

Fuck this digital shit. I'm gonna get myself brushes and paints. 

I had some cardboard leftovers somewhere behind the closet, so I dug them out and started sketching, killing the time until the shops open. 

tubes of paint photo by Gordon Plant

I haven't used a brush and paint for like 15 years. Or maybe ten. I don't remember when I discovered Photoshop. Consequence of which, beside not having any supplies at hand, is that once I got everything the tight budget could give me, I had to face the fact that I can't use it. 

But the bad mood already passed and I really didn't care about lost skills. After all, it's a clean start all over again. 

Of all the arts I ever tapped in, painting was probably the one I never had much ambitions for. Except while I was five and made an exhibition of my early works in the kitchen. Mind you, I sold one painting to our first-door neighbour. But despite the lack of ambitions, or maybe due to it, then as now and anytime I was putting colors on the paper, it was making me happy. Probably happier then any other art except dancing on raves. But… ehm… I could be disqualified in that discipline. 

So here I am, with a pile of experiments and rough studies, jar of water, several brushes and tubes of paint, all making the mess on the floor. Still far from producing anything close to what I had in the imagination that night, but happy as a child. Floating in hypomania. Maybe I even produce something worth looking at. If the good wind last long enough. 

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2 comments to Fuck This Digital Shit

  • Isn't that always the way, we get all wrapped up in Digital Shit, and forget the joy we first got from the hands on experience. I hope you can find room for both. Loved this post,and am looking forward to reading your next one. <3

  • Oh, I will find room for both. I'm too hooked to silicon world.

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