It’s only the weather. The gluey heavy mess outside. That mess.

It’s been tough to enjoy lately.

Weather. Why talk about something you can’t control, right?

That’s why. It’s that – what we can’t control that kind of catches us up. Especially if it’s NOT something we would ever want to post on – yes – that darn internet.

One thing about the brain is that it likes to look for flaws. What’s wrong. You know that one.

But then, over time, what’s wrong can be – yes – what’s right. Look at Francis Bacon. His work, when first shown, was an affront to the sensibilities of the viewer. At the time, art in England was not “emotional” and certainly not raw and edgy.

Over time: he is the British artist most remembered from that era. And there were many great artists/ much great British art from the 30’s and 40’s. Work which was more pleasing, more palatable than the affront that Bacon’s work elicited. But Bacon’s work resonated.

Bacon is not one of my favorite artists. What intrigues me is that potency of his art. That he presented a truth that echoed in the viewer. He was “bad weather” at the time.

Isn’t that what every artist wants? To create a work that affects the viewer.

Not necessarily. For some representation matters most.

But, well, Peaches could care about all this:

She’s happy to be finally a little bit dry.