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The Majestic Lego Dragon. Oil on canvas. 24x30
As someone who loved both dragons and legos, the lego dragon was a truly marvelous toy. As is very fitting, it was elusive, achieving a near-mythical status; as a child, I never actually owned one. It was only on rare occasions that I got to see one, that I got to hold one in my hands to make it roar and stomp and go on adventures. For me, the lego dragon was perfection. Its mouth could move -- I loved toys that did this, allowing for biting and speaking and other such fun. Its wings could flap. Its arms could move. It was very simple, but these traits gave it unexpected complexity, and so it carried unexpected possibility. Even its shape -- its lines and designs -- simple but not too simple, elegant and beautiful. I particularly loved the shape of the head.
Oh, it was love! And love does have a way of sneaking into my paintings. This is the lego dragon of my imaginings. Very real. Very much alive. Out there, somewhere, in a place I have never been too, never seen, but imagine to exist.
As a teenager, I did finally buy myself some lego dragons, when I remembered how much I loved them and how very much I used to long for one to call my own. I bought five or six of them, all different colors. Together my brother and I turned them into characters, and wove them into the collaborative story taking place in the lego town he'd created. It was a grand exercise in creativity and friendship, and lego dragons, my very own lego dragons, at long last, played no small part.
Yeah, so -- that's what lego dragons mean to me. It's not my first oil painting. It is, however, the oldest oil painting of mine that I actually feel rather proud of, looking at it now. I had completely forgotten about it. I stumbled across it while looking for a different painting, and was startled to see it. I had to pull it out, and really look at it. It feels both refreshing and unsettling, looking at something that is so clearly mine and yet has been so thoroughly forgotten. It feels like someone else painted it, but digging deep, I can remember painting it. I can't remember much of the experience. I can't remember what was going through my mind. I can't remember what emotions I was feeling. I can only remember really wanting to paint a dragon. And what other dragon would I choose, but a lego dragon? It was a natural, effortless choice.
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