Journal Entry: Sat Aug 21, 2010, 8:31 PM
I sit in my studio hoping for a client,
One who is wealthy, completely compliant.
Hurriedly enters a man in a black suit and tie,
With an annoyed expression, needing reply,
Now Bradley insists he has to be painted,
Like he is awaiting to be sainted,
His father had sent to his family a decree,
His hall shall display his large family tree.
Brad of course, must have the most elegant submission,
Fitting his income and noble position.
He argues for a lower price to be dictated
Pacing; soon he's foreclosing on real estate.
He paces back and forth, impatient for me to start;
Insisting I capture his pure, golden heart.
With sudden inspiration my task is very clear,
I'll paint him as he really is without fear.
I contemplate how the entire painting will evolve,
I pose him in a way showing his cold resolve.
The painting will be of my thoughts, the artist's perpective,
Not an image for a phony collective.
He wants a soft, gentle impressionistic vision,
Instead I see an egotistical fission.
Aristocracy demeans the poor,lower classes,
They put themselves above the common masses.
I mix my emotions on my palette many times,
And think of the homeless not having a dime,
The drawn face of a hungry child on the streets alone,
Brushes on his face a scowl with darkened tones.
As he looks in a mirror this vain distant creature,
Hasn't any depth or texture in his features,
The lines in his face are a brief outline in design,
He's lost in the composition and benign,
It is filled with the ghosts of unfeeling decision,
If he complains there will be no revision.
This was not a comissioned portrait of face and skin,
It's an artist's statement of the world within.
Listening to: Duran Duran
Reading: Art News Magazine
Eating: chocolate mousse