BlaBla

EGO EXPLODING!!

Accompanied by his pack of drooling pitbulls, Mr. Wilders returns to his heavily fortified orange colored bunker after a long busy day, packed with throwing the usual mean smelling stuff around. While biting his beautiful white teeth, he quietly unlocks the door. Tonight he doesn't want to wake up HunnyBunny. Somehow he doesn't feel like being slapped around so much, which is peculiar, because it is something he usually loves for obvious reasons.. Tonight our great leader intends to have some undisturbed relaxing time. Ever since this morning, catching up on last year's season of Sesame Street was all he could think about.

After entering and locking all 911 bolts on the door, the hallway's romantic lighting automatically ignites. He takes off his coat and puts on his best looking burka. Ahh, that always makes him feel right at home. His own little secret.. While turning to the mirror, he admires his looks together with his pitbulls. Their drool is dripping on the blue carpet. A bit turned on by this, for a moment he considers waking up HunnyBunny for obvious reasons.. But then he decides to stick to his original Sesame Street plan..

The other day Richard et Moi re-united at the studio for some necessary cleanup (ass ordered by the pretty dictatorial landlord). And hey, after about ten heavy duty painting sessions that didn’t even seem such a bad idea after all.. Some order is in order, right? So there we went, together in a car stuffed with ten big garbage bags full of I dunno what, talking about how love turns out in practice. We concluded that the sustainable green ideas that drive our girlfriends in totally different ways are actually damn great, and inspiring even..

When we pulled up to the garbage dump we encountered this guy.. I guess synchronicity can have a sense of humour too.. There are some damn scary extremists outthere (click the pic). We reassured ourselves to stay on track and focus on our creative objectives up next.

With the two of us the creative process basically starts with slacking from grabbing whatever to get the paint on the canvas. From a positive perspective one could call it foreplay. Although sex is surely creative, from my experience it never was nearly as frustrating as the process of painting can be at times.. if at all.. So much for the foreplay/sex comparison. I guess the slacking might be called something like the “fuzzy frontend” of the process of painting. A warm-up to get some inspiration.