Some men are pansies and some women are painters. The lion's roar
can be dressed up in colors neither'd recognize.
The paint can in time is exploded by a handsome bullet
with my name on it and a typewriter's glint.
Fame's not a fruit but the lady bug's as beautiful as the core
a nuclear reactionary must in faith never hypothesize.
Nobody hears and nobody's nose, to unquestionably spool it
I'd need to check the past reconfiguring absolutely every hint.
GT - September 1, 1996 - Washington DC
About Me
- Gabriel Thy
- Washington, DC
- Concerning the veracity of paint, I presume that my art begins from a "condition of need" and is a matter of ambiguous perception with carry-on luggage both in political and metaphysical terms. Each painting I complete is the conflicted subconscious on the prowl for brutal honesty, urged to sniff out those personal heresies residing somewhere between a humble arrogance and an arrogant humility, harnessing hidden energies which instruct the flow of imagination. Rarely do I start with a pre-conceived notion of what "I would like to imagine" but instead, I struggle against the common elements of mind and materials the status quo presents. So, when painting, I follow the paint from first splash to finished canvas, making choices of color, syntax, and narrative, limited by what I see on the canvas.
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