About fOOnOOn.com
fOOnOOn.com is fOOnOOn's online art gallery. Spectator: "What does your art mean?" fOOnOOn: "You may understand it. But you'd rather not. Because if you think you did, that wasn't really it." fOOnOOn's artworks don't have definite meanings. They are not intentions to start with but results with which to end up. They go beyond understanding and logic... They are expressions of innocence, sarcasm, and love.
fOOnOOn's grade 7 art teacher was furious. fOOnOOn made two masterpieces. "Why did you draw on both sides of the paper? How many times have I told you not to do that?" "Sorry! I will not do it again." "That's what you always say! Now, how will we display the two in the exhibition?" In the exhibition, fOOnOOn's artwork was the only one suspended from the ceiling to show both sides! One side, a Bedouin, was printed on a school greeting card. The other, an Itinerant Peddler, was selected to participate in an international contest and won a silver medal.
The year after, fOOnOOn became a teenager, with interests shifting to other things. fOOnOOn didn't draw except for doodling cars, airplanes, and motorcycles. Then, one day in university, when teenage years were over, and homework was overwhelming, fOOnOOn started doodling on the paper, which awoke a sleeping artist. fOOnOOn bought paints, brushes, and a canvas and escaped into imagination. fOOnOOn did an excellent artwork, "Orange Car." It felt good! And from that day on, fOOnOOn did art, but only to escape; that is all the time.
fOOnOOn later took several art classes producing works like pencil and watercolor drawings of onions. fOOnOOn enjoyed lessons and homework, but less than other works. There was no escape. There was a schedule to follow, time limits, an instructor saying "do this" and "don't do that," and always copying from models, landscapes, and still lives instead of imagination.
Most people have one favorite color. For fOOnOOn, all colors are favorites. While painting, fOOnOOn assigns a number to each color and rolls dice. To mix two colors fOOnOOn rolls twice. To choose which brush, fOOnOOn also rolls dice. fOOnOOn then uses whatever the dice decide and paints. It is a fun game, like our lives. We don't choose most of what we get but use it to paint our days, making us what we are.
fOOnOOn had two solo exhibitions and participated in other art events. They were exciting. fOOnOOn sold some works and had good feedback and reviews from visitors, newspapers, and magazines. One newspaper article described fOOnOOn's art as "Expressions of Innocence, Sarcasm, and Love." fOOnOOn liked it and used it as a headline. However, the overwhelming amount of preparation work for exhibitions and events was disappointing. It took away much of the fun of doing art. It took away freedom and escape.
fOOnOOn started incorporating digital media into art when computers became part of our lives. Later improvements, especially the touch screen, made it possible to simulate all aspects of drawing and painting. So, for example, waiting for the paint to dry is unnecessary. Instead, it can be made so. And it can immediately be turned back wet again. This couldn't be done with actual paint. It just dries forever. And on a computer, there are undo and redo.
With the Internet, fOOnOOn created fOOnOOn.com, making displaying and promoting art easy. And now, with social media, fOOnOOn.com reaches everywhere worldwide.
Some of fOOnOOn's works come out spontaneously, representing struggles, such as an everlasting effort to improve speaking. "It's Complicated, but I'm Trying" is the title of one work. "My Public Speech, with a Lot of Eye Contact" is another dealing with the same struggle. fOOnOOn tries to become as free and spontaneous in speaking as in drawing and painting and become as confident and happy as the personality of another painting, "The Persuader."
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Dans un rêve j'ai vu le petit volant par l'aide des grandes ailes dans le ciel immense en se déplaçant d'une étoile à l'autre. Dans chaque étoile un groupe des petits garçons l'avaient chaleureusement accueilli. Il leur donnait de petits boîtes dont le contenu je l'ignorais. Les boîtes n'étaient pas ouvertes, mais elles étaient cachées quelque part. Le petit étranger, dans chaque étoile, comptait le nombre des petits garçons. Malheureusement, je ne reconnaissais aucun d'entre eux. Une fois, dans une grande étoile fortement étincelante, le petit étranger ouvrit la porte d'une grotte. Il entrait. Là-bas dans la grotte, des petits garçons de cinq et de six ans dormaient paisiblement sur le sol de la grotte. Chacun d'entre eux portait sur la poitrine un sac bien gonflé. Je n'étais pas dans une position de connaître la nature du contenu des sacs. Quoi qu'il en soit, tous les garçons de la grotte me semblaient avoir les mêmes traits que ceux du petit étranger. Peut-être étaient-ils ses frères et ses proches.
This is an excerpt from the writings of fOOnOOn's father. Continue reading!