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A World Jones Made Painting
Painting, Acrylic on Canvas
Size: 48 W x 72 H x 1 D in
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About The Artwork
“But he hadn’t seen Jones, yet. Nobody had; it was too early. The world went on rebuilding, reconstructioning: its time hadn’t come.” “‘Question. What are the drifters? Answer. Beings from beyond the solar system, origin unknown, nature unknown.’” “‘You think I’d arrest your brother’s cousin because she goes around saying Beethoven quartets are the only music worth listening to?’” “A spark of identity would linger in the brain for months. A dim flicker of consciousness would persist: that was his future memory; that was what the wave showed him. Darkness, the emptiness of death. And, hanging in the void, the still-living personality.” “‘Because it’s awful. You remember . . . Living like that, shut up in a little glass box.’” “‘Nobody can have absolute knowledge about the future. By definition, the future hasn’t happened. And if knowledge existed, it would change the future—which would make the knowledge invalid.’” “Paradise: the ancient, eternal hope. But the other planets were nightmares of frozen methane gas, miles of stark rock. Without life or sound, only the blowing death of rocks and gas and empty darkness.” ‘“The danger isn’t in the war; it’s in the attitude that makes the war possible. To fight, we have to believe we’re Right and they’re Wrong. White versus black—good versus evil.’” “The molasses of time: it couldn’t be hurried. On it dragged, with weary, elephantine steps. Nothing could urge it faster…” “‘You old patriarch. By the time you’re my age, you’ll have grandchildren. Virility, thy name is youth.’” “There was no doubt about it: this boy had no pitch, no line. Something was wrong; he was off-key. The other entertainers were hawking, yelling, turning themselves inside out (often literally) to attract attention, but this boy simply sat and glared. He made no move to get business; and he got none. Why, then, was he there?” “Simpler slogans . . . and the most effective: ON TO THE STARS” -Philip K. Dick (The World Jones Made)
Details & Dimensions
Painting:Acrylic on Canvas
Original:One-of-a-kind Artwork
Size:48 W x 72 H x 1 D in
Frame:Not Framed
Ready to Hang:Yes
Packaging:Ships in a Crate
Shipping & Returns
Delivery Time:Typically 5-7 business days for domestic shipments, 10-14 business days for international shipments.
Handling:Ships in a wooden crate for additional protection of heavy or oversized artworks. Crated works are subject to an $80 care and handling fee. Artists are responsible for packaging and adhering to Saatchi Art’s packaging guidelines.
Ships From:United States.
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I’m (I am?) a self-taught artist, originally from the north suburbs of Chicago (also known as John Hughes' America). Born in 1984, I started painting in 2017 and began to take it somewhat seriously in 2019. I currently reside in rural Montana and live a secluded life with my three dogs - Pebbles (a.k.a. Jaws, Brandy, Fang), Bam Bam (a.k.a. Scrat, Dinki-Di, Trash Panda, Dug), and Mystique (a.k.a. Lady), and five cats - Burglekutt (a.k.a. Ghostmouse Makah), Vohnkar! (a.k.a. Storm Shadow, Grogu), Falkor (a.k.a. Moro, The Mummy's Kryptonite, Wendigo, BFC), Nibbler (a.k.a. Cobblepot), and Meegosh (a.k.a. Lenny). Part of the preface to the 'Complete Works of Emily Dickinson helps sum me up as a person and an artist: "The verses of Emily Dickinson belong emphatically to what Emerson long since called ‘the Poetry of the Portfolio,’ something produced absolutely without the thought of publication, and solely by way of expression of the writer's own mind. Such verse must inevitably forfeit whatever advantage lies in the discipline of public criticism and the enforced conformity to accepted ways. On the other hand, it may often gain something through the habit of freedom and unconventional utterance of daring thoughts. In the case of the present author, there was no choice in the matter; she must write thus, or not at all. A recluse by temperament and habit, literally spending years without settling her foot beyond the doorstep, and many more years during which her walks were strictly limited to her father's grounds, she habitually concealed her mind, like her person, from all but a few friends; and it was with great difficulty that she was persuaded to print during her lifetime, three or four poems. Yet she wrote verses in great abundance; and though brought curiosity indifferent to all conventional rules, had yet a rigorous literary standard of her own, and often altered a word many times to suit an ear which had its own tenacious fastidiousness." -Thomas Wentworth Higginson "Not bad... you say this is your first lesson?" "Yes, but my father was an *art collector*, so…"
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