Langrage
“Langrage” has landed! (Okay, yes, I had to check how to spell the title for the hundredth time just now, but brain blocks happen. Just ask the gremlin in my head clogging up the whole process of living to a complete and freakish stop. But I digress…)
As I was saying, Langrage is here. And with it comes my explanation for it. Or should I say excuse for it?
Anyhow, here are the gritty details—
The sudden death of my father shattered my world and my glued-together sanity.
Shards of misshapen shapes…
Shrapnel of colors…
Yawning expanses of nothing…
All these combined into my newest work, “Langrage.”
Langrage is an obsolete nautical term from the 17th-19th centuries for a cannon-shot packed with anything and everything broken and harmful.
Well, this is my “Langrage.”
The lines, too jagged, rough, cruel not even a managed angry but a sloppy mad. I hate sloppy. While the colors I chose to force upon this piece are acceptable, the stark absence of more of them bothers me intensely. I had to fight not to add more, any color of more. But I kept it as is just because it feels so unfinished, undone, uncomfortable with what is left.
How apropos. How imperfect.
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