Thin Red line (2)

I want to melt wax and paint with fire; I like the physicality of the process, the rush of applying the medium before it changes temperature and the interplay of adding and subtracting, translucence and accretion. The language of layers and contour.

But it's too cold in my January She-shed - I could heat it but I need good ventilation. I could wear a hat and gloves but the wax would set too quickly. I'm going to be patient instead and hold out for milder times. 

So here is Red Line (2) A wild and untamed wilderness painted whilst inwardly raging about Gaza. A clear red line which reaches beyond us. A line crossed. Truth exists. Reality cannot be re-written to suit the power-hungry. This isn't 1984.

It was Gaza I was thinking about, raging about when the wax was hot, but now I see Greenland.



A3 encaustic on wooden panel.

(I thought I posted this a week or so ago, but it turns out I didn't when I walked away from the computer screen, cowering from yet another impending migraine)

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