Lamma Island, 10:11AM – Windy.

Entry 107

Green is a color that is on my mind, a dark choysum-leaf green. I painted a green last night and out came two windows, one yellow and one red, on top of the choysum-leaf green. It is me but it is also Rothko. I will paint more and eventually I will find me.

Painting is an old thing that I am trying again. I will fill time by filling canvases. After three or more years of not listening, not knowing I could listen even, now I will try to listen and hope that I am hearing clearly. What does green say? It says healthy plants. It says tea. It says garbage bins on the streets of Paris waiting to be emptied. 

I was gone for seven weeks, and Hong Kong has not changed save for a few fluctuations in the thin lines of social vibrations. A city that does not slow down until you slow it down yourself, by saying no, by applying for a studio space, by not measuring yourself by your “career.” Remember, it is important to have a life while you’re living.  

Walking to the ferry this morning, Lantau is wet-paper grey and milky blue. There is no green, just wind. I think about how I would paint it and what it would say.