{"id":2593,"date":"2020-07-09T03:43:19","date_gmt":"2020-07-09T03:43:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.vanessagemayel.com\/?page_id=2593"},"modified":"2022-09-24T10:09:55","modified_gmt":"2022-09-24T17:09:55","slug":"painting","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.vanessagemayel.com\/","title":{"rendered":"A collection of paintings and words organised according to solo exhibitions and publications"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

A few writing excerpts below, in English and French:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA hop and a bop and a brushstroke of green. The tune sways on my canvas as the music plays on and on, in an endless line that keeps curving and curbing in a spiral. At last a drum roll and the spiral finds its circle and the melody flows and the colours dance and dance and dance. The whiteness of the canvas, the silence of my house – no longer. Black and blue with pink and yellow and a dash of grey with lilac and a hooker\u2019s green to boot. Dancing. My arm is twirling along to the beat, my body is processing the different planes, my mind a wonder, pulsing as the tune grows, it bends and folds and comes back again. Music and the blues, the reds too could not, would not have possibly been without a murmur first, a voice that bellows the world to see and echoes since forever on the ancient walls of the caverns to stand silent no more. The voice becomes a roar, a Do so to speak and the Do is set aglow, and begins to rise, to take on a shape and then, so do colours too. The melody takes a step forward, does a little twirl and a hop and a bop and a brushstroke of green.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n