Title: Don't console yourself you idiot
Date: June 1999
Size: 112cm x 112cm
Medium: Oil on canvas

This painting is also availible from the print room

Titled from a line in this poem, written days before the painting.

How do I find you?
How do I find you?
I can't find you in my draws,
My shelves or cupboards.
I'm looking at a canvas
Waiting for you to appear
But I don't know how
You might arrive.
How do I avoid you?
Easily.
"Everything else to do today"
"Can't waste time finding you"
But I do wish to find you.
To contact you
To exchange my nothingness
For a moment of your fullness.
I look in a photograph for you.
But you're inside me
Puzzling me
Drawing me in deeper
If only I wouldn't resist!
I could find you
If only I could stop looking
For your photo in my desk
Rummaging around
Pretending that what I'm doing
Is important, urgent, necessary.
Actually losing more and more
Of you
As each hour passes, and each day
Ends.
And I have still, no idea how to find you.
I'm frantic now, searching
And running around 'doing' things.
STOP IT!!
Stand in front of that canvas.
Mix paint.
Hold your brush.
Let the marks begin to find themselves
To join together into a whole.
Just stand in front of it
Just stand and watch you appear.

You're inside me
Always waiting to be found
Patiently watching my tears.
I need my tears to sizzle
Down my cheeks,
To turn to steam because the fire
In me, is raging
And I'm burning inside.
But I'm not.
I don't feed my inner fire.
I don't find you.
My tears run down my face
And my beard is wet.
How do I find you?
How do I find you?
I see I don't search for you
I see the sham
Of my life,
As I glimpse you
And understand the offer you make,
And the offering I must make
Is still not possible.
But it's only been fifteen years.
And fifteen more before.
Don't console yourself you idiot!!
Put something on the fire
Don't let it go out
Keep watch, be vigilant
Every day, every hour, feed the fire
Find some real courage
Find some real hope
Find some real love
Then maybe, I find You.

10 June 1999
For my brother Mark
© Joshua Wiskey