Blame Your Green Eyes; For What They Have Seen.

Watercolours on paper. 100 x 70 or something x 2 as there are two of them hence the x 2 part.

By Paul D Robertson

 

Available for sale

 

            
                   
           
    The Individual pages for each of the works are "Blame Your Green Eyes," and "For What They Have Seen."            

THE MOTH AND THE FLAME...relevant text...

 

The idea of the moth and the flame is slightly misunderstood in its popular context.
It was I believe coined by Goethe, the guy who wrote the first version of Faust…
Though interpretations vary, my own extrapolation of his words, or rather the wisdom and beauty of this metaphor, can be described thus:

Those who are closer to the flame live brilliantly lit lives. They are warm, and there is vibrant colour in everything that they see. But… but of course… the flame itself – the very fire that PROVIDES the light – it burns them. For some of us; for you perhaps, for those of us with a soft, soft heart –you pay for the glow that you share with others.
You are hurt by life. The flame burns you.
You are hurt simply by living in such proximity to the light; the true heat that makes your mind and soul so beautiful.
It also makes you MORE ALIVE.

  
 
This is the Uncropped unaltered version of this diptych. Thought folks may want to have a gander.
     

 

      
      The pieces during the progress of painting. It doesn't LOOK like it should take hundreds of hours, does it?      
                   
     

The model is my beautiful, kind and talented ex and friend, Kylie. She is way cool. She has a remote control darlek. I mean. That… is cool.

Hm – erm finished sometime after Christmas 2007 but not too long because I just ate reheated PUDDING which was FANTASTIC even though it is made with suet.

Damn. Shouldn’t have thought of that.

No really.

Damn.

Am adding the song that I wrote from whence I took the titles to the two works… and to the diptych that contains them both.

I am allowed. I’m special. Like Ralph in The Simpsons.

OUR LITTLE DEATHS… (The chords also rock. I will upload the song itself as soon as I get to the point where I can organise recording it.)

you nail my guitar to the bedroom wall
you lick your lips promise me more
take my nail polish, go out to score
but I can’t, I won’t help you... anymore.

That final appointment waiting in line
A scar on the flesh of your inner thigh,
A casual promise and a white lie
Where the old bridge splits... the hot night sky

CHORUS
Our little deaths
Holding your breath
I’ll always be less
Always a mess
Ill never confess
To the cuts on my flesh
Or the tears on your dress
Are all we have left

You carry the heat all bloody and keen
Hot with this fever since you were 15
Stones you’ve kept for each lie you have been
Blame your green eyes, for what they have seen

We kissed on the beach last Halloween.
And now we’ll never forget the shit we have seen
The hell in the wall the gorgeous machine
The tiny mad children that we have both been