Pigment on Paper - A New Song!

 I’m a little bit worried that this one will be too personal, too close for the general public to grok.  In part, I’m OK with that, because it’s written for my mom on her umpty-somethingth birthday.  It supposed to be personal.  I’m also OK with it because another song I wrote that was very personal often turns out to be a favorite of some of my friends (“Toy Soldiers”).

So, read the lyrics here, and see if you get it.  Then read the explanation below.


Pigment on Paper
For Louise, on her birthday
3/9/11

For years I have watched you load up your brush
You’d pause and consider in a moment of hush
You’d sweep ‘cross the paper with a wrist finely turned
A cerulean blue or sienna that’s burnt

The colors would bleed as you dabbed, wet on wet
Your hand was so certain, no chance for regret
Dark storms on the Rockies, distant but near
I saw the clouds building, I remember the fear

But it’s not real
It’s not real

Chorus
All of my sorrows and all of my fears
All of my sadness and all of my tears
All of my grudges for all of these years
Are all just the stroke of a brush
All that I whisper and all that I say
All that I worry about day to day
All I imagine that stands in my way
Are all just artistic illusions
Just pigment on paper

You painted with care, with a detail precise
Each tumbled-down barn and each rusted device
Revealing a beauty of shadow and form
From inside the ugly, forgotten and torn

They seemed so real
They seemed so real

Chorus

Bridge:
And everything I think is so wrong with me
Looks as real and as clear as the painting I see
But if I step forward and look up close
Then my eyes can plainly see the brush strokes

And I know they’re not real
They’re not real

Chorus



See, my mom is an incredible artist, and her main medium is watercolor.  One of the things she taught me is that a painting isn’t real.  It’s a two-dimensional representation of a three-dimensional object.  It’s a painting of onions in a basket, not real onions in a basket.  A skilled artist will use shadow, form, and shape to create the illusion of three dimensions, to create depth, but it’s still a flat piece of paper with pigment on it.

So, as I’ve been dealing with all of my garbage of late, I’ve started to come to the realization that all of my troubles are, like the painting, two-dimensional.  They’re all in my head.  Imaginary.  They’re not the real me.  They’re just pigment on paper.

Do ya get it now?




Come back often to hear about new songs and shows. Mark also has other sites and blogs, including his Dutch Oven blog: Mark's Black Pot and his LDS pop culture blog: MoBoy blog.