I am afraid we will have to cut him off there, he seems to be adrift a bit. Nonetheless, a great painter and a man of promise. If you have met him, consider yourself fortunate, for what is the chance of such a crossing of the paths! If you have read thus far without becoming extremely annoyed then you will probably meet him soon. And if you are now very irritated by this writing, then rather navigate to some other frivolous manuscript. The artist would like to thank all his patrons, and I am looking forward to all the future projects and friendships. It is a privilege to be painting, and I believe my gift belongs not only to myself. I have a responsibility to share it.
The artist lives on the southern tip of Africa. There, amongst tribal strife and cosmic shifts; darkening governments and enlightening minds he earns enough gold to keep his budding little clan warm, dry and fed. Most of the time. However, the craft of communication through symbols; the expression of idea in subtler nuance, is often overshadowed by the feverish scramble of the masses after a whim or the next gadget they don’t really need; the biggest flat screen, the latest high spec, fuel burning automobile to get stuck in peak time traffic with.
By good fortune, and the indestructible finer side and taste of noble folk still in existence, there exist an agreeable awareness and interest in his work. The artist wishes to express his sincerest gratitude.
He is a white male of about 6 foot, blue eyed and light haired and has been dwelling this planet for about a third of a century. Some people find him a bit odd, others are charmed beside themselves; some find him quiet and serious, others are intrigued by the mystery. He is definitely far from perfect, but all round a rather pleasant chap.
He has been creating works of art for about a decade; only the future knows what he is capable of producing in another decade or two if he is spared. All the signs are there that not even a world war will stop him and he seems to be quite determined to reach his full potential in this life.
But enough from me, lets cast our eye upon a quote from the artist’s own ramblings:
‘…like a tribe of galloping wild horses, softened by their own dust in the late afternoon haze, so is my spirit, constantly on a trot to the next hilltop from where I can glimpse the distant horizon and the ever so slight curving of it; a gentle reminder that there is always something beyond. Perhaps there is nothing wrong in trading a desire for personal exploration for the relative safety of the ‘known’ and ‘familiar’, and a tranquil acceptance of oneself, as is. But perhaps it is also agreeable to live life to the fullest and part of that entails facing an improved version of oneself around every corner and on every hilltop; how sweet the discovery…’
Pieter van Tonder