Here's another abstract I made yesterday. It's forged with flames, ink, and the vitriol of a soulful black man and his sweet, sweet voice. I've been running low of my usual art supply stock, so I cracked open some new ideas, including a can of spraypaint just to see what I could come up with. When most of what I do is based off improvisation, setbacks and failures don't really surprise me. An old professor used to have an acid hippy philosophy that anything and everything can be art, even something like a wad of spit. And while I'll agree that spit, although fleetingly so, is beautiful, sometimes something just looks like crap.
Luckily, this one does not look like crap, or so I think. It has a very crispy and plastic look to it, one a bit different than I've been able to make before. In the top left the strange fissures remind me of shapes of birds or other animals, and I really dig the fingerprint stripes. The top right area just seems wet, or coated with something, and appear to be closer to us that the white ink strokes.
I'm not sure if anybody out there is pondering what I'm pondering. It could just be blobs and bubbles I'm not even sure people take the time to look that closely at a picture. However I'd assume most people would at least look at the whole thing and try to equate it with something else in a Rorschach sort of way. So here is what it kind of reminds me of:
http://www.melissapapajphotography.com/