Shadows of a crucifix.

Charcoal and Chalk, sold.

120 x 90 cms.

I met a psychiatrist who was interested in my work.

This is not that unusual, but this psychiatrist was not one of the THREE treating me at the time. I met him at a pub’, and he was deeply interested in “The Music of Flesh” but didn’t buy it. It is still for sale. What are you people thinking?
Anyhoo, he lost my number but found it again and called me. He lives in what was formerly a church. It is small and very old, for Australia (more than ten years!)
He wanted me to do a piece that would fit where he lived, and had a pretty good understanding of art in general (this to me more than anything means being aware of and comfortable with and BELIEVING IN one’s own preferences and, he says, sighing, not reading into minimalism or dada-ism with any actual MEANING. “A little learning is a dangerous thing. Drink deep or taste not that Pierian spring. Where shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, and drinking deeply sobers us again.” And so on.
I don’t know what Pierian is. Well yeah I do. It is of or to do with the breakfast of anyone named Pierre. No not really. It’s a spring in Macedonia sacred to the muses. There they would frolic and thus prefigure lesbian cheerleaders everywhere. I know this because I am being visited by a muse presently – Calliope. She is hot. It helps. She brought pudding. Muses are important. Hence the word MUSician. Though it should apply to all the arts and not just MUSic. Heh. Never made that connection before.
But I digress, just a little.
I borrowed the fiancé of a friend of mine. Actually she is more the friend of a friend. Lovely girl, quite beautiful. Would NOT take off her clothes. Grrr. Ah, well. Most of the time I paint people with clothes on anyway. The photos turned out well… well… well enough for me to think about doing a very serious sideline in photography to PAY MY GODAMNED BILLS, which I still can’t do even though I am a very good boy.
So the meeting with the psychiatrist was, strange indeed for such a thing, mutually beneficial. I finished this commission for him, and I have a couple of hundred photographs of exceptional quality. The cool part is that he doesn’t mind if I go back and use his place again. It faces west, and the light in the afternoon is magical, powerful. Golden.
The title is because the windows in the church, whilst they are actually stained glass, have no cross beams, so I had to add them. The piece bears little resemblance to the photo, just for a change. And where else do the shadows fall so deeply of such a heinous act as in a church?