I perceive a painting looking back at me, it represents a freedom of thought and expression, yet is bound to the canvas and colours. The freedom is defined by the limitations impressed upon the artist by the canvas.

One cannot paint what one does not experience, in all the freedom which exists on the canvas, it is subject to the determined life of the artist. What ever the artist has felt when they painted on the canvas is lost to me, all that remains is the painting itself. The experiences of the painter are dead, the painting takes a life of its own whenever it is experienced again. The freedom is defined by the limitations impressed upon the artist by the life of the artist.

Freedom is the ability to work with what has been given in life. To create from it what one wishes; what one's society has imprinted upon one's soul.

The border of the painting offers an intrinsic finality to the art. There is no outside the canvas. There is only the canvas and what I bring to the canvas when I experience it. The freedom of the artist means nothing to me, yet the art is a lens to the soul of the artist. The art murders the artist whenever an Other experiences the work anew.

Freedom is interpretation. The artist creates out of limitation, both existential and material, the Other experiences the soul of the artist through the media of artwork and finds freedom in interpreting the art. Meaning creates itself.