Tree of knowledge
Art can do anything. May grab, bore, decorate, disturb, ask or comfort, disgust or rejoice. Art is free.
All creators are looking for their own language, concept and intention. Mine is to paint clever pictures as long as people are so foolish, me included, and I can paint and live. I use the temptations of craftsmanship, radiant colours, funny titles, sensuality or the hope of solace. With a sly brush tip I take my time on a journey into the future, which will ask for justification. Certainly, my aberrations of the mind will be put aside as illustrative mannerism, my femininity will be condemned to authorship. It will be fine with me, even posthumously, because the patriarchal view of art history has already revealed itself to me at painting times in its capitalist defense of benefices as a construct of lies, even with some quota women as packaging, with which the painting masculinity elegantly ensured that they remained harmless when the benefices were distributed. It can’t mislead me, it motivates my courage, pampers my expectations.
And so my tree of knowledge does not make us naked, it shows us as fools. This makes Adam and Eve, in relation to our world development, more credible to me than a male deity’s view of a female “shame”. Or is it already there, the condemnation of one part of humanity, as an apple in the womb of masculinity? Back when the male part was pleasing to God, somewhat stupidly seducible or just a murderer and the female side was condemned to the seductress to give birth in pain? Like a manifesto, this original idea already points the way to be taken in art history. Their acceptance was pursued inquisitively. This is where my brush picks up the trail. Here I look and let the tree rot a little, the fools look at each other. It makes me happy to answer something in return for my time.