Mark Rothko, Untitled,1968, Private Collection"I am not an abstract painter. I am not interested in the relationship between form and color. The only thing I care about is the expression of man's basic emotions: tragedy, ecstasy, destiny."
mark rothko
mark rothko
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There is only one word to describe me today- depressed.
I have an emotional breakdown even I was completely satisfied with my journey of my beginning of the 30th HKIFF.
For the Fallen, as you might see its style is very Hungarian Style (although the theme is seemingly different). No surprise afterall.
It was 2:48, I was sitting in the cafe outside the Museum of Art to have my lunch alone. I think I should be satisfied, at least for a peaceful moment in my life. After 24 mins, I planned to go to the seminar in the Science Museum. I was in front of Mark Rothko's Canvas however 10 mins later. I get lost. Like you are in the mist with unpredictable obstacles around your body. I am wounded without notice.
I once believed under the biggest format of art presentation, your soul will be healed. Quoted from Rothko, you could only appreciate a piece of art , or the form could only be communicated to their audiences with similar level. I wonder if I truly understand what it means. To me, any form of representation should be very personal, I appreciate the creature with personal touch.
Stepping to the untitled works. I felt like towards his death. I smell blood with violence. Emotion, tragedy, I smell the blood. He killed himself in 1970. His last painting is around my height. I then know that I am in deep depression. I tried very hard to be positive and strong person in the past few weeks, unfortunately all ruin in a second. Uncertainty is everywhere. I am fucking losing myself in front of his work. It's nobody's fault. The moment you feel there is hopeless and cold and couldn't yell.
There is a monster. Eaten my soul. Except these stupid words, I nearly can't express myself in a more accurate and precise way.
Repeated tonight, towards to the end of the 30th HKIFF Marcel Duchamp's Anemic Cinema. With me.
How to ease my sadness?
There is only one word to describe me today- depressed.
I have an emotional breakdown even I was completely satisfied with my journey of my beginning of the 30th HKIFF.
For the Fallen, as you might see its style is very Hungarian Style (although the theme is seemingly different). No surprise afterall.
It was 2:48, I was sitting in the cafe outside the Museum of Art to have my lunch alone. I think I should be satisfied, at least for a peaceful moment in my life. After 24 mins, I planned to go to the seminar in the Science Museum. I was in front of Mark Rothko's Canvas however 10 mins later. I get lost. Like you are in the mist with unpredictable obstacles around your body. I am wounded without notice.
I once believed under the biggest format of art presentation, your soul will be healed. Quoted from Rothko, you could only appreciate a piece of art , or the form could only be communicated to their audiences with similar level. I wonder if I truly understand what it means. To me, any form of representation should be very personal, I appreciate the creature with personal touch.
Stepping to the untitled works. I felt like towards his death. I smell blood with violence. Emotion, tragedy, I smell the blood. He killed himself in 1970. His last painting is around my height. I then know that I am in deep depression. I tried very hard to be positive and strong person in the past few weeks, unfortunately all ruin in a second. Uncertainty is everywhere. I am fucking losing myself in front of his work. It's nobody's fault. The moment you feel there is hopeless and cold and couldn't yell.
There is a monster. Eaten my soul. Except these stupid words, I nearly can't express myself in a more accurate and precise way.
Repeated tonight, towards to the end of the 30th HKIFF Marcel Duchamp's Anemic Cinema. With me.
How to ease my sadness?
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