Some paintings start out fully formed in my mind and transition onto the canvas as if in a dream. Others start out with an image or a feeling and then they morph – also as if in a dream. Both require as much staring and walking away as they require careful application.

For a while, I contemplated how to paint Kisa’s mustard seed story into your life. My head swirled and spun with yellow flowers, blue skies, an abundance of colour, and this unattainable seed – utter devastation within a world of plenty. I was careful not to turn you into a religious icon, and I didn't want a cheesy replica of you begging for a seed in a village or at the feet of the Buddha. The ideas kept swirling, and eventually, I found an image of you on stage in front of a crowd, which read, “Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – European and UK Tour 2021 cancelled.”

You look almost small, yet strong and defiant, in front of all those people. The light on the crowd is a washed-out blue or purple, depending on the image. Purple goes well with yellow, I thought, and those people in the concert crowds, they are part of your village and you are part of their imaginings. Before I knew it, my first layer of strong, freely swirling purples morphed into blue hues. When I worked on my yellows, it turned some of my blues into greens. Green is life; life is lush. Light flashes this way and that in a concert, and faces are just roundish or oval shapes. I kept it loose. I was careful not to paint ‘hands in the air’ or phones, as I did not want this to be a painting of worship or entertainment, but a painting of transactional energy. Once I established your silhouette in front of the crowd, I had something lively, vibrant and worth looking at.

Your back is turned to the viewer again as you are focused on your actual audience and your job, the reason you show up in the first place.

I had planned on giving the crowd another layer of ovals and shifting the colours a little more away from the accidental greens and the strong purples that still shine through. Yet, the other night, I found myself listing all the names of those whose questions you have answered in your Red Hand Files. Once I finished that, I could not restrain myself. I got my pens out and scribbled all 400 (something) names onto the canvas, somehow framed your silhouette, and declared the painting finished. Is it good? I don’t know. But I love it!

I will call it “Love, Nick” and I will add the names of those whose questions you are going to answer until this project of mine comes to a close.

Love,

Cordula