This flow acrylic painting is made in a few seconds. I have but few moments to direct the flowing paint to manifest as an image. Usually a figure emerges from such experiment, rarely, a horse or a bird.
My art teacher, Michael Petrenko selected this painting to keep in his apartment where he spent his last days. It is an absolute fact that the value or importance of someone or something gets revealed to its deepest within the vacuum of absence. It is hard to describe the moment when you realize that there is no one on the other side of the phone line to answer your life questions even though the phone number carries that name. Or that there will be no thumbs up, down or a heart placed under your post with reference to that name. Ever. What is that void filled with? Memories tumble down without order, plugging the gaping space. Perhaps. May be, like a vacuum, it sucks out some strings that can be described best as emotional pain, but can be explained as tingling regrets.
It is a great honor to have this painting be collecting dust along with life work of a great artist. Collecting dust because we have too much art and most of it may never see the light of day like in the case of the vast collection of works by my teacher. He was well known back in his country but here he was narrowly known among local artists and barely exhibited his work out of his garage. At the end he became a paranoid grumpy old dude who selected solitude as a way of life. Like a monk.
I think his life at the end was quite colorful. He caused explosions by calling people out on fraud they did not commit. He told people about their looks in their face. He argued with doctors and nurses due to his profound intellect, avoiding detection of quite advanced dementia so he managed to get things his way to the end. He positively decided that half of the city is on drugs. He told me many times women have limited intellectual capacity and thus they cannot possess artistic genius like men.
I argued about that a bit.