So you want another story… alright, I am not one to deny curiosity.

Let’s see, where to begin…

Ah! I know.. let me take you back.

Through the mists of time and memory, back to a time about 6 years after “she who shall not be named” went back under the sea to live with the other denizens of the deep… or that’s what I like to pretend happened.

At this time in my life I was still a young man, golden hair to the middle of my back… skinny as a rail… and trying to decide between buying decent food or buying paint and living off ramen and grilled cheese.

I ate a lot… of ramen.

I would wake up at 5am.. get ready and walk to the bus, two transfers and 3 buses later at 8:30 if I am lucky and 9 if I miss a transfer I get to work. 6 to 8 hours later it’s back on the bus, set alarm on phone.. nap. Transfer, nap, transfer walk home.. cook my ramen.. I saved the grilled cheese for nights when I didn’t have enough left in my wallet to buy a large frys at Wendy’s for lunch. Eat.. and then it was time to paint.

One of my favorite techniques has always been to coat the canvas in a thick layer of heavy acrylic medium mixed with titanium white. Then press a plastic bag into the paint and pull it slowly off leaving a texture of little spikes and hollows. Let it dry, turn it upside down and paint a wash of watercolor. The pigment pools in the hollows forming completely random and unique patterns.

Then it is like watching clouds.. you stare and let your eyes lose focus.. let the pattern come together and form shapes in your mind.

Slowly.. with brush and pallet you reach into those patterns and pull out an image. Drawing out what you saw with your mind onto the canvas for all to see.

And then I look at the time.. 2am..

Put down the brush.. curl up on the couch.. sleep.

Alarm… 5am. Drag myself into the shower.. then tea. Strong enough to make the spoon stand up. Then I look at the easel standing in the living room.

I think I just about jumped out of my skin.

HOLY CRAP! What the hell is that?

In my sleep deprived stupor of painting the night before I had worked only in red.

The wash when dried looked for all the world like flayed flesh. And the image I had so carefully pulled from my subconscious was a face. But not a face.. it was more..

I circled the easel.. when the light of the lamp was from the right, the shadows of the texture changed the image. It was a woman. Head bowed as if in deep thought. I circled.. with the light from the left her head became an eye, the swell of her chest the jawline.. there was, the woman’s face was back…. and it was screaming.

I sat on the couch. Stunned.

Had I created this? It was beautiful.. and horrible. And quite frankly scared the shit out of me. I stared.. it was disturbing.. moving my head back and forth, watching the image twist from one to the other. I looked closer, It was perfect. Not a stray brushstroke anywhere. All the proportions were exactly right.

I flopped back on the couch and covered my face with my hand. What have I created? It was a monstrosity.. and a masterpiece. I picked up the phone and called into work even though I needed the money I just… couldn’t… so little sleep and with my head still spinning.. no.

Then I called the gallery. I tried to convay what it was.. what it looked like.. but it was just too much. I didn’t even want to look at it anymore. I wanted it gone. In less than an hour the gallery owner was knocking at my door. I already had it wrapped in butcher paper.

I handed it to her.. “take it. Sell it. I dont ever want to see it again. ” she nodded and said some polite things that I was too rattled to recall. And then it was gone. But not.. I could still see it, behind my eyes.. in my head.. I needed sleep.

I slept for 20 hours.

I felt better when I woke.. but it was still there, fainter.. but not gone. I did my best to ignore it, went through my day.. and the next.. and the next.

But I didn’t paint. A week later I got a letter from the gallery, my painting had sold the same day it was put up. And inside the envelope was a check. 9000 dollars, far more than I had wanted for it.

A sigh escaped me then. Now it was gone… but it wasn’t. To this day if I think about it I still see it in my mind. I dont know who owns it. The sale was anonymous and i am honestly glad for it. For if i knew who had it… i might want it back.

It was simply titled “Red”

I have painted a bit since then but the paintings never feel quite “right”. Eventually I gave it up in favor of other artistic pursuits.

There you have it. Another story told. Another peace of me I expose to the world.

Wishing you all the best -SirHanz