Tall Story

So something moved.

Let me tell you something about sitting doing nothing in a deliberate and sustained manner. It's not easy. The mind wants to constantly jump up and go ferreting about in it's grimy old haunts and has to be repeatedly ushered back like a child to its lessons. Which in this case is a little silly because what it has to be ushered back to is this incredible African Spring. Paradise can't be all that different.

Anyway, the experiment was to see if something moved on its own without me moving it, and I can now report a useful outcome. Earlier this week I got interested enough in the unresolved King of Streets painting to get up from my stillness and try an idea I'd thought of on the weekend.

That was the first thing that moved.

The beauty of computer imagery is that I can try things out digitally before committing oil to canvas, and in going there I discovered an earlier digital experiment I'd forgotten about. It was suddenly so obviously right that I took the jump and painted it. And ended up in quite new territory.

Here's the backstory. Back when I lived in the Cape Town I was often struck by how much the faces of the city's street people resemble the original inhabitants of this land, the Bushmen. Whether this is true or not it seems feasible that their hunter-gatherer lifestyle got shunted aside by a new world that had no place for them, and they ended up at the bottom of the pile.

However that may be, at the time I often looked at my own struggles of survival in the modern world in terms of small nomadic bands roaming and living off the indigenous landscape. The modern equivalent featured shiny buildings and BMWs cluttering the same spaces, but the struggle for survival still ran strong in this new world. Only now with TV and more angst.

So probably my interest in this couple was more personal than just a subject to paint. What attracted my attention was their incredible vitality and joy in the moment in spite of their poverty, so the contrast in the painting between them and the wealthier but more inhibited crowd around them wasn't lost on me.

But the painting just wouldn't get resolved. I'd tried all sorts of ways to fill in the bottom left corner which clearly needed something, but nothing worked. One idea that kept surfacing was to put cave-style images of animals there but it seemed somehow too obvious, or maybe too pretentious. But that was in fact the idea I discovered when I looked at my earlier digital experiment.

So I did that and immediately the dust of Africa entered the picture. The new atmosphere was undeniable. A layer of prehistory had become superimposed over the modern street scene, as if the deep memory still running in those lined faces had seeped out and onto the canvas. It felt authentic.

Only trouble is, I felt like a fraud. What business did I, a first world white man, have painting in a bow carrying hunter? Ok, it's out there in my world which happens to be the Africa I love, but it's not my culture. Hell, I haven't even seen a real life bow hunter, other than as cave drawings. I'm basically being a cultural thief.

And then the second movement happened. How would those ancient cave painters view this bizarre white man's world? Without really realising I was doing it I scratched a primal hi-rise building amongst the dusty animals.

It took all of 10 seconds, but it completely transformed the painting, and for that matter my role as painter. The whole long human story of civilisation rising like a bean stalk through the most fundamental patterns of human life got summed up in those few strokes, and along with it our dislocation from our own deepest nature.

In the months I've been hunting for a solution to this painting I've occasionally been asked what the man in it is saying. In the context of the primitive hi-rise and the plane I added afterwards, the expression on is face is saying, "You won't believe this baby, it's just too wacky to be true, but I swear, it's real."

So I've decided to rename it Crazy Story.