The Gate Of Ashes

pauldrobertson

Perth, Australia

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Wall Art

Stationery

Artist's Description

Bitumen and crimson oils on canvas.
120 × 90 cm.

This is a painting of my extraordinary ex-partner, sinn.
It’s called The Gate Of Ashes because…

I have been so sick. I have had chronic neuropathic pain for the

last 6 years, so much so that I COULDN’T PAINT ANYMORE and it

drove me mad in a rippling, violent shock. A new madness. I

have worn and sworn enough madness.
This tore me from who I believed myself to be each day each

hour each moment endless a vast saga of pain. I was left with far

worse than nothing. I had become nothing.

It… broke me.

I treated Sinn badly, wrongly, I twist with chagrin well earned as

I try and find the will to lift my fingers to the cold keys. My eyes

to the screen. My scoured memory of what I have done, my

treachorous and selfish heart to its own fast account.

it took a long, long time for me to know her. Right now this

moment in the deep softness of the night – I am sitting hunch-

shouldered, hands quivering in staccato arhythmia – my face

cradled in the curling smoke from my cigarette, and my mind and

heart boiling and bursting, curled and twisted with shame.

knowing her, growing to learn who she is, what she is…

I know something of pain, as we all know its fingers in our

hearts and eyes and minds.
I have studied the history of the world for 30 years. I have never

read or met any person whose physical suffering exceeded this

extraordinary woman.
Such horror she has endured embraced, overcome, destroyed,

filled with her self and her strength and poured into her aching

soul to forge another of the hundreds and hundreds of scars

covering her sweet skin.
And to forge her.

She loved me well.

I did not deserve her.

I wish I could have made her believe me. When I told her that

she was beautiful; that she was strong,that I loved her, that I

loved her, that I loved her.

That she might believe me now when I write these words please

believe this liar
Sinn please I beg of you oh babe please.

I honour you in my memory. I owe you. I feel for you… more

respect than you would ever, perhaps, accept that I could

summon.

I ALWAYS DID.

I have no excuse for hurting you so. What could excuse such

coldness, such hypocrisy. I was so sick, but I… i accept that it

was not my illness but my cowardice that cut you a hundred

thousand wounds.

you have enough wounds. enough.

I will always love you. I will never forget that you nursed me

whilst you were in terrible pain – with a fever of 42 degrees C,

whilst your own treatment and illness tore through your body.

I know that you ALWAYS told me the truth.

I do not deserve to have you in my life. I could ask for no better,

tougher, more resolute, passionate or loyal friend than you.

I hope that you will believe me. I understand now. I am… so

sorry.

PLease, please, oh please.

Live well. As you loved me so well.

Paul.

Artwork Comments

  • Jennifer Rhoades
  • pauldrobertson
  • annacuypers
  • pauldrobertson
  • Karen  Helgesen
  • pauldrobertson
  • Ellen Marcus
  • pauldrobertson
  • Marcelle Raphael ©Fine Art Newborns
  • pauldrobertson
  • artisandelimage
  • Revenant
  • lilynoelle
  • pauldrobertson
  • lilynoelle
  • bluecrystal93
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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