Trauma

This is Trauma, traumapainting. Paint the drama away.

Just chill and paint a face. The painting happens by itself, and you will have been floating somewhere far away from here. Away from legal zooms, mercenary harassment campaigns, and british yellow journalism.

Somewhere along the way I had bought a brush pack to put a little zest back into my Photoshop, the old brushes were too heavy. The pack is great, it’s rich, full of variety and well organized. Too much to be honest. A box of joy for the slave of the brush.

There’s a hospitalbound quality to the image, radiation treatment, dissociation. Hospital teal background, and some simple gown. The entire image is submerged in a low buzz of texture. Low even signal, fuzzy ringing in the ears. Only a few juts of information, errant bursts of nervous twitch.

Dissociation, mere signal being processed, no action, movement, momentum. Only a slow drift forward in time. Dead eyes hear the ringing.

This is a hard object, a picture of resilience, a self-portrait, a brush test, a meditation, an evening, and a psd file. Maybe a print in your hands. A fortifying charm and a ward against hurt.