Kandinsky

I'm not sure what it is about Kandinsky that keeps bringing me back to him again and again. Maybe it is because he was a synaesthete, maybe it is because he loved music, maybe it's because he was Russian, maybe it is because he recognized art as a pointing towards something else, something more, maybe it is a lot of things. Whatever it is I just so adore his paintings.

Of late I have felt myself highly incapable of explaining myself via words. Each time I try I merely walk away frustrated and desperate. I blame this partly on learning French as English gets pushed to the back of my mind all jumbled and feeling abused and my skills in French just barely at a young child's level (on that note I have a profound new appreciation for how frustrating it must be to be a little kid). During this I have found myself painting so much more, painting like a fiend, painting like my life depended on it. Even that though does not always seem enough to express the millions of hesitant thoughts crowding at the front of my brain, preventing me from sleeping and attempting to strangle me with each of their seemingly immediate needs (pesky thoughts). Kandinsky helps. I wish I could say why, but these painting seem to express my thoughts, thoughts that feel important to express (why? I don't know).

That is all.