I painted this painting about a year ago. It looked differently – just a thin layer of egg tempera depicting the forest that separates our home from the neighbors. I was not pleased with the outcome – it felt like I hadn’t really nailed it. The composition was to my liking, but the colors seemed pale. I put it aside, and every now and then I took it to my hands and looked at it, not quite sure how to go on, should I even go on or just let it be. Seasons passed and winter came and regained its naked appearance. I used a black marker to add black lines which emphasized the shapes of the trees and shrubs. Again, I put it away.
One very cold winter day, after painting in my studio, I still had some oil paint left on the palette. I had no prepared canvas or a paper, so I simply took that little one-year-old painting and added another layer, this time with oil colors.
I used mixed media more than a few times in the past, usually improvising while in search of the right moment to end the painting (a delicate task by itself). But it always happened instantly, impulsively, and never lasted that long. This time was much slower and it made me think about age and life and the mixed themes that add up as we grow and evolve:
The people I know. The people I meet. The ones Who left my life for good. The ones that stepped into my heart. The growing and aging. The return of long forgotten thoughts, emotions and acts, this time differently, because I never cross the same river twice, none of us do. It all adds up like layers inside me, and those layers mix-share-absorb experience and understanding, thus creating the mixed media story we call life.