Usually, I'll think to myself, "I'd like to do a painting. What shall I paint?"

Or, "Ooh, that's a great idea for a painting! I shall paint that!"

Or, "I need some magic in my  life. I'm going to do a symbol painting!"

Or, "Are you sure you want to commission a Yellow Duck symbol hybrid ...?"

... and so I set to work.

But just sometimes, there's a different process involved.

It goes like this.

"Oy, you. A painting needs to be done. Get to work."

To be sure, I don't hear voices. I get my messages in Imax with surround sound and sensorama.

"The canvas has to be one of the thin rectangular ones.

"The background must be a mixture of blue, violet and black, make sure it's matt.

"And there are to be gold spots on the front, I will inform you of their relative positions nearer the time."

Oh-kay ...

So I do the background. It knows exactly how it wants to be and tells me in no uncertain terms what sort of paint is to be put upon it every step of the way. There's no free will, no choice in the matter. If I try to stray from the path, I get nauseous by direct feedback ...

Then the gold spots.

They insisted to be done with my fingertip (middle finger, right hand only).

"But I can't get them right, can't get them nice and round - please let me draw some circles round a few shot glasses!"

"NO."

Alright, alright ...

So I do as I'm told.

And I end up with a painting that not only don't I know what it is about, or why it had to be done, but even with one I find difficult to defend from the usual "My three year old could do better than that!" accusation.

Oh well ...

I asked it what it wanted to be called but I didn't get an answer; it clearly didn't care, it just wanted to be here.

It reminds me of photos I've taken when snow was falling at night with a flash; so I called it Gold Fall.

Mission accomplished.

Silvia Hartmann

March 2012

Gold Fall