The air was light; dim patches of the sun hovered deep in the clouds in the middle of the half-clear skies. People seem to be mostly indoors that day as the streets were less paraded by them. I should be indoors too. But I needed focus; and I thought I can't get it at home, with my mother, the painting and all. I'm also not too sure my resort to go to the park would change anything, but it's away from home, worth the try. So when I finally sat alone under a tree that was tagged Gingko biloba in the Botanical Gardens. I looked around me to make sure I was really in a strange part of the park where hopefully, I won't be disturbed by anyone or be hit with by surprises. Satisfied with what I saw, I opened the book.
The preface throws light on the title with emphasis on the psychological effect of colours alone without form. Mr Glasgow believes abstraction is more of play of colours than form; imaginations are translated to objects or colours or both. Harmony in artistic style either representational or abstract is achieved through the colours used, and the more exciting the colour, the more attractive the composition.
Mood in this context tends to come from two things: the artist's thinking and the colour; a little 'touch' on a colour could lead to a change in mood of the whole picture as well as perception on the path of the onlooker. The reality of illusion in painting is achieved only through colour, therefore abstract artistic pieces are judged first, by colour harmony of the composition, then the form. Form is not always the case here as most abstractions are devoid of it. He believes people gets attracted to paintings because they appeal to them in many ways, but in the actual sense, the most appealing is colour.
Personally, I like what I've been reading so far and it made me wonder what the contentious issue Mr Glasgow had raised that provoked criticisms from art scholars. I believe colour imputes the 'soul' into art depending on what colour is used, how it is applied and in what intensity.
On this point, I paused from reading to enjoy a mental reflection on my art at home. The sudden realisation of Pam's condition, I thought, requires a certain artistic presentation that will stir a certain mood different from just a girl sitting in a canoe feeding swans on a pretty day. Its soul shouldn't be latent, but should show more than the mare picture.
"Well, well; look who we have here, the new park ranger."
I heard the voice from somewhere to the left, it was Phil. He came with his brother Simon and their family dog Marley, interrupting my thoughts.
"Hi Brad." Simon waved. I said hi to him.
"So what's up Brad; how did it go with the girl."
"What girl?" Simon asked, looking at his brother.
"The girl he accused me of harming."
"What! What are you talking about?" Simon was confused.
"Will you stop asking me and let the boy answer the question?" Phil barked at his brother.
"She's fine." I said "She's fine. And by the way I didn't accuse you of harming her."
"You did, Brad. You called to interrogate me over that little bitches’ misfortune and you were so angry about it, remember?"
"I did ask you, not accused you. Asking and accusing are two different things."
"Yes, they are different." Simon said.
"Shut up Simon." Then Phil turned to me again. "I don't care if you asked or accused, what I'm angry at is how you put it all on me. God; what makes you think I could do such a thing; harm a girl? I could have a reason to harm this one but not physically, Brad." He paused and sighed. "I thought you know me well, I was wrong. You are such a big fuck!"
"Phil." Simon uttered his surprise; Phil raised a stay-out-of-this finger at his brother.
"It seems like you have fallen for the enemy that's why you sounded harsh on the phone. Well, good luck Brad, you can go through it and any other fiasco without me. I'm glad. Goodbye Brad."
"Phil." Simon said again, looking perturbed at his brother.
"Let's go." Phil said and briskly walked away from us. I, Simon and Marley followed him with our puzzled gazes.
"Look Brad, I know he'll come around later. He's just upset now. We can..."
"It's ok, man. Just go; I'll take care of it. Just run with your brother."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, now go; and thanks man."
Simon shook his head, dragged Marley and went off after Phil. I watched them leave. Simon turned once and looked at me, Phil didn't; obviously, his anger was on edge and that culminated to the end of our friendship. I can't believe he just did that. I can't believe him saying all that and I just can't believe all that happened to me in the past four days; losing my sketch, loosing Pam and now my best friend. At that moment, I felt steeped in total lividness.
I looked at the book in my hand for a moment and realized I would be wasting my time if I should continue reading it at my current state of mind. I wanted throwing it away but couldn't because of the deep respect I have for the author. So I stood up and began walking, having no idea where I was going but very certain that I needed to take a long walk away to nurse my anger. I walked briskly, heading out of the Botanical Gardens.