Realizationism Art Blog

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Thursday, April 7, 2011

The Childhood


   My earliest exposure as a kid were art works from my father...sort of dadaism and surrealism with images juxtaposes beyond conventional style. As a photographer by profession, I remember he put my photo inside the tigers mouth...and added fairytale characters in a surreal landscape. Though none of those works exist anymore...they are still very much alive in my mind. A long lost past...somehow, in a sudden recollection, just this instance...my childhood memories are saved in fragment.
   I usually would get into trouble doing artworks. My mother does not allowed me doing something I love...that is to paint. I have to hide making drawings...of images that haunt me. Characters that in my simple mind became my imaginary friends. Faces found on printed materials are favorite subject too. 
   One day, while cleaning the house, my mother discovered my drawings under my bed and secret collections kept from a compartment inside a wall...I sense the fear when I saw her fierce look...and instantly I sob...she grab my hands while swearing and started to hit me...my arms, legs, body...anywhere, pulling my hand my she laid it on the table and threathen to smash it, reach for a hammer and started pounding my hand...once...twice...I broke into tears without sound. The pain was so excruciating, my eyes blurred until darkness enveloped my vision...
   I heard my father shouting...there were scuffled arguments...my tears streaming all over my cheeks drowsing my vision...the crippling pain from my palms...tiny fingers jittering. 
   I don't recall how I get into my bed but found my head sobbing on the pillow. Hide me please...let me escape...this are not real...I still could hear my parents yelling.
   I fell asleep. There was a dream...a fearful sight I have chosen to delete in my memory. Phantom images in gothic strokes...pale and smoldering
   Awaken, I saw the sunset casting mauve lights...fading and melacholic. I felt numbness on my hands. Slowly I walk to the window...saw the garbage box...dig my hand in it...and there I saw my half-burned artworks...
    
  

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