September 2nd, The Edge of Life is far too Sharp

Der Wanderer über dem Nebelmeer, by Caspar David Friedrich, 1818

Blue, brown, white

Mont Sainte-Victoire , by Paul Cezanne, 1905

Blue, white, yellow, pink

White and Green Blue, 14# , by Mark Rothko, 1954

Blue, white, green

July 23th, 1982 , by On Kawara


Untitled (Lover Boys) , by Felix Gonzalez Torres, 1991

Blue, white…

I yearn for a kind of ease gain through deliberation. Exhausted in an afternoon, I fell down in a pile of scrap; these blue pieces cut from artworks began to tremble; I held my breath and gazed at them like gazing at tarot. I believed that there is an answer twinkling among them, which is the irreplaceable choice and the sense of destiny hit by prophet. And I was still unable to make the first brushstroke. Concerning about "what to draw" and "how to draw" can no longer fill the constant hunger in my heart. This kind of emptiness made me feel necessary to work out "what it is as", Evidence? Script? Blueprint? Or a dream? I have no way to start it and feel fretful and depressed. Maybe it's time to try Artists Anonymous (an association for colleagues to help each other and pass the difficult period of creation). It's said that psychological counselors draw lesson from art therapy and take creation as the appearance of symptoms. I guess that if one persists to take several treatment courses, there might be possibilities to get cured…

from Jia Siwen Diaries