The things that really shake the human soul aren’t beauty or kindness.
Although such things are certainly moving, but those feelings don’t last long.
But pain or sadness is different.
They take you to an inferno, leaving you indelible burns.
Even after the fire is gone, you can never forget the pain completely.
Last night I stayed up all night thinking about it.
I was floating with the memories of that summer I spent with a particular baker I met in France. I was thinking about his oven, those flames, and I wondered why he has to go through all the hard work just to bake bread. And next thing I knew, I was at my desk painting.
I am not a good painter, but I have 5 painting blushes and 12 color tubes. They do a very good job calming my noisy thoughts, but I never like calling myself a painter.
I’m not being discreet; I just don’t know how to explain myself as smoothly as my blushes run through my paper.
I guess asking him why he bakes is the same thing as asking me why I paint.
It’s probably because I’m alive.
That’s all there is to it.
I sense colors in people, especially this particular baker I met in France. I’ve sensed it ever since I laid eyes on him.
They’re fervent. They are powerful. They are beautiful…
But they are also sad.
They are chaotic.
You might find them horrifying.
I’ve been wondering what his colors were for the longest time.
When I watched the flames consumed with rage, it was as if the spirit of fire had been living trapped inside it all these years, and finally found its way to break free.
To me, it looked like a phoenix.
And each time I tried to paint it like a phoenix, I seem to struggle so much that ended up painting several pieces of it. Perhaps that’s what happens when you try to paint your mind abstractly.
Phoenix of ‘Pain’ by Yuki Matsumura 2019, watercolors