13 March 2026

There is barely anything to be seen here. One would have to extrapolate and fill in the gaps with conjecture. Because there is an indication of a vertical pattern at the top, I assume it extends throughout. I am blind and have to walk by faith. I cannot see because my apparatus is limited. What am I not seeing? Should I assume nothing is there because I cannot see it? Or is my aesthetic retarded. My preconceived notions, my expectations. I am looking at something and I can see it, but because it does not fit my preconceived expectations I am blind to it. My mind registers it as nothing. My mind expects more contrast. More differentiation. More determination. Slowly it starts to adjust to the colour range that is there. The way the light falls over the painting. I start to notice texture and the slight convex bumps the now dry paint made. I start to imagine what it would have looked like back in time when it was still wet. I start to see the beginnings of a cloud and the raindrops inside it. And the wind sweeps me up into it. Ouch! A hailstone. Not really ouch, it's nice to experience the hailstone pain-free on this side of the painting. But this is not my natural habitat, and I feel a slight uneasiness up in this cloud. I used to do skydiving, so I know it would be a bit cold up there. But here I am under my warm blanket, enjoying this warm, comforting, consoling colour. The lack of a sense of up or down, everything is in flux, is terrifying. Ah, terror, I must be close to something divine now.