Drawing to me is a bit like thinking aloud. It’s a space, where I can experiment crazy ideas and new world orders; where I can explore connections: of thoughts, of emotions, or sensations of thoughts and states I find myself in, free of the constraints that computers and collaborative work bring with them. This safe harbour became particularly important ever since chronic pain transformed my life and made creation a difficult task; i felt like being in hell. Ironically, this is when I introduced color: first in smaller formats that I am turning into a graphic novel, and then in this series called forms (of being), on a larger scale.
The forms you can see are detailed snapshots of my observations of nature around me, mostly monochrome as it was winter, up in the mountains, when I kicked off.
The colour came intuitively. It felt like a bold move, as colour was not yet part of my drawing world. Maybe in defiance of the pain and the limitations that I am in, but also because of them: pain is, like breathing, getting older, decay and cycles, part of life.
Drawing became an act of resistance. An evidence of being alive.
Doing large formats represented a physical challenge and changed my thinking. On the way, I encounter the ambivalence of pain: it’s not all negative and ugly; it opens a vast, messy space and on it’s other, far end corner, desire is slumbering.
I continue to work on these forms in spasmic rhythms, moving on in the pace my condition allows.
Material: pierre noire and oil on paper or tracing paper
Photos: Karlheinz Fessl