I start with looking at the model. Marek brought ‘’Baladi’’ eggplants from his secret grocery store, he always brings great models from there.
I begin study sketches, trying to get the color and feel. I follow the model with care. Footnotes of a painter.
Quick sketches in watercolor have a tendency to be fresh and vital. This one is OK. Caught the gleam.
I can stop here, it is faithful to the model.
No.
I look deeper as I am drawn in by the beauty of the model. So many colors in the object and in its shade.
A still life in the studio. Just a room, a few eggplants, a lamp and myself.
A painterly haze wells up from the reflection of the model imprinted in me.
A week has passed. The eggplants are no longer alive. What remains are sketches and feelings. These have accompanied me to various places, slept with me at night.
The memory of the eggplants have now turned in to the life force that will conceive the painting.
The eggplants have shrivelled, and my painting is about to be born.
I return to the studio with a new sheet which I started with a pencil drawing and a few watercolor stains. It may be ruined with the next brushstroke. In watercolor every stain could be fatal .Go ahead, that’s OK. I have a large stack of paper.
From within the inner quiet, the painting calmly appears. Colorful, improvisatory, specific with its own inborn character.
This is how it always happens when I do my part. “Adi, you called upon me. Here I am. Let’s play.”
