I sometimes feel I border reality and dream. As if my life were a pendulum going inbetween what I imagine and what is real. It might be that I have not had enough sleep lately, or I have seen to many weird movies. One for instance was
Henry and June, about the affair between
Anais Nin and
Henry Miller. It really made me want to read
Tropic of Cancer... And then I saw the
Dreamers, directed by Bertolucci. It wasn't as powerfull as
Last Tango in Paris I thought, but it was still pretty weird. These movies, about people who experiment, push their lifes beyond
rules,
society and
morality seem to pierce my mind, seem to somhow penetrate my
heart, just like your
coldness. And slowly I can feel how my innocence is turning into protective spines full of lies, my
heart into
ice.
I painted this as I was watching The Dreamers...