House painting has ended. I've been under the influence of extra white paint and concrete resin more days than I might should have. Tonight, as I clean, purge, and place space between things, I discovered a painting I made in 1999. An enormous energy is in this painting – it's manic. Life was about to get bad – life does that, goes way up, then way down. I left myself a message in a language only the open-hearted can understand. I was covered in leaches and tormented by demons - in spiritual and human form in those days. I hate demons, I call them sociopaths or fuckers or demons – mind, body, spirit. The sociopaths torment the mind, the fuckers the body, and the demons feed upon the soul. All three the same creature doing a different job. When they come, I hide what is valuable, hide it in my art, so they can never get at it. When demons look at art all they can see is themselves. Demons, sociopaths, and fuckers hate art and try to twist it into their image. Demons go mad with rage when they don't see the reflection in the world they demand – them and only them – some of these creatures kill to insure they see them and only them. Killing isn't winning, it's loosing, because demons get a brief look at themselves and that image is self revulsion. Demons see themselves, then that image - which is a lie because demons can do nothing else to others and themselves - is replaced. An artist always comes along, with a new beautiful image, that is not a view the demons wants to see. The Demons is reminded that it's malicious self love it revolting – they feel it, if they don't know it. They can never win, because the art won't stop coming, the world will never be what the demon wants. A world all about them, will never be, because the world is all about the us, not the me. When the Demons pull the painting from the wall, it just creates a fresh new space for a new more powerful painting. Tonight, I'm hanging this emotional painting. Tonight I am also starting a new art to replace it. I'm thinking maybe a French Flag out of bottle caps... and on it I will right Je Sui Charlie! There, I aired my mind along with the paint fumes in my house. Need to take a walk, look for some red, white and blue Fench bottle caps.
Remarks by George Furman
April has been a good month for old friends. Pals who have been working 30 years to perfect their art. This month, Brad Sells spent time talking with Liv Tylor's Dad (Steve Tylor, to those over 30) about the spiritual nature of Brad's art – the power in the life of trees. When Brad dropped this vessel off at my studio to study, I felt he'd become an old growth master of wood working. The piece is so perfect, I sat and stared at it for 20 minutes... I was also nervous about handling a piece of art worth more than my car. It seems good things come in threes in my world. I'm happy for friends who are getting rewards from their life work.