By Simon de Groot –
Picture a garden becoming, with seedlings growing. Golden spirals emerge from the black earth. The black earth baseline, a foundation built from filth, from death and decay. This is a God-awful compost of discarded titbits in which he stands. Growing.
Sometimes from this blinding darkness, colouriffic things grow. They start slowly as a seed then weave and twirl into life. Growing and Growing into bigger ideas, more paintings like canopies of canvas. All the time sustained by the fetid earth from which they sprung.
In this patient’s cracked up mind grow saplings of creative thoughts. Unchecked these plants become weeks of strength and a green garden sanctuary grow behind his tired red eyes.
This sanctuary is his imaginary kingdom, where spectacles of shock nastiness unfold and characters borne of the patient build castles that are real to the touch. He begins to think things never thought and find things never sought. The patient realises that a private kingdom with paintings is a screaming comfort.
In his two faced life, the patient earns his money and records his wage in a near perfect hand. He feels like things are becoming desperate, so he turns to his kingdom of creatures for continuing consolation. He uses too much alliteration. He smiles without meaning. He is not the piper of the children in his mind.
They dance and play mixing up memories with dreams while the patient is powerless to stitch together his life. He visits the kingdom more and more often, becoming known to them, while sitting alone at his canvas. His other life is breaking while he draws on notepad. The patient is assessed; diagnosed and classified as –
The Happy Mad
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