Trans - Planting

I performed delicate surgery on an aloe plant that I have had for 5 years in my Montreal condo. His name is Bob (Robert if he has done something wrong) and he is a great companion. When I bought my condo 5 years ago, he was the only thing that came with it. Either a forgotten asset or a nice house warming thought from the previous owner.

Bob was small, about 4 inches across and in desperate need for water and attention.

I nursed him back to health and fed him plant nutrient sticks and lots of water for many months until he regained his shine and vitality.

Now he seems to feel like he has the run of the place. Outgrowing two pots so far, this past weekend I put him in a very large 16 inch ceramic home with three bedrooms. Very nice!

To date, Bob has grown to inhabit the counter and kitchen window area where his advanced scouts control the sunlight into the apartment from the west side.

My only concern with these constant transplants is whether I am being kind in allowing him to expand, or whether I am aiding and abetting his ultimate takeover plans of the planet. Bob is quite formidable now although not reaching Little Shop of Horrors proportions yet.

So I am home in Toronto this weekend and I wonder how he is doing. It was a difficult transplant operation, requiring me to take a hammer to his previous home in order to extradite him safely. My hands shook and my brow was sweating during the 4 minute procedure. I slumped in the corner and stared at the dirt on my hands for several minutes after the arduous task.

His new home is spacious and refilled with quality dirt containing vitamins and lots of shit plants need to grow, but I am worried if he will adjust. Moving to a new neighborhood is difficult at the best of times, but this is like moving from a studio apartment to the Queens summer home (sans the servants).

God speed Bob and see you Wednesday. Hang in there and I will be bringing treats and several toys to amuse you.

Pets are such a responsibility!

M

Where does art come from?

Over the holidays there is a lot of time to think, at least in my world. I realize that so many people spend this time running from place to place with various family obligations and celebrations.
I choose to hybernate, watch the winter solstice pass and begin my dreams for Spring.
At the same time, via bordom or ambition, I find my creativity retuning.
I write a lot more of my never ending novel, and I need to paint. Yes NEED.

The paintings attached represent an abstract vision of my emotions during this sequestered period.

"Doesn't Fit" is a teaser. I will leave it up to the viewer to decide if it is beautiful or obscene.

The "Days End" has a twofold meaning. A simplistic sunset, or a truly horrific scene of impending doom. It makes me happy :)

Where do these ideas come from? What makes the choice in colours so important?

I dont know. But I do know that when I need to paint, it is an overwhelming emotion that must be addressed. A physical yearning, like an addict, or a smoker on a 10 hour flight.

Love them or hate them, I hope you have a strong reaction either way.

M