nicgallery blog

(acrylic on rough paper)

As you might know, I´ve started a painting of a woman, standing in her the doorway of her home
The painting proces has been on standby for quite some time now.
The fictive story behind the painting, suddenly got a life of its own.
I stopped painting and started thinking...far too much.

In order to make it easier, I´ll place myself in Yvonne´s kitchen and listen to the conversation between Yvonne and her daughter Claudia

Yvonne (Y) is standing at the kitchen table. I can´t see what she´s doing. From the movements of her back, it looks as if she´s cutting something

Claudia (C), her 9 year old daughter is sitting at the dinner table, with an absent look on her face.

I sit without moving, holding my breath.

Y: You´re quiet today

C: Mom, you said that yesterday too!

Y: I know. You were silent then also, honey

C: I don´t know what to say

Y: I just want to start a conversation, you know.

C: Why?

Y: I want to know what you think!

C: About what?

Y: Tell me about your dreams. You used to do that. I like that!

C: I remember them....

Y: But?...

C: They are different now

Y: Different? Different how?

C: I don´t know what they´re about anymore.

Y: Does it scare you?

C: No...I dont think so.

Y: (laughs) Most of MY dreams are pretty confusing. I don´t know what they´re all about. And sometimes they really scare me! NIGHTMARES

C: I don´t dream like that

Y: Well how DO you dream, honey

C: It´s like a story

Y: Ok, are you IN that story or are you just standing somewhere watching?

C: Sometimes I´m in the dream and sometimes it´s like watching TV.

Y: I see. That´s interesting. How was your latest dream? Did you dream anything yesterday night?

C: Yes.

Y: Well?

C: It was...about you.

Y: Me?!

C: Yes

Y: Oh...what did I do in your dream?

C: You were standing like this in the doorway (rises from chair and stands with her arms crossed)

Y: Where? The front door?

C: Yes.

Y: That´s all I did? Just stood there?

C: You were worried.

Y: Worried? About what?

C: That we`re not real.

Y: WHAT?

C: Someone made us up and you´re worried about it, that´s all.

Y: You mean God..or

C: No, not him.

Y: How do you know?

C: I just do. God feels different.

Y: I see. Sounds like a nightmare to me!

C: Don´t worry mom, it was just a dream.

Y: Yes love, that´s right.


I leave their kitchen as quietly as I possibly can.

Funny I have to write my way back to the canvas again!