Sunday, 1 April 2012

Welcome to Edward Kendrick

I'd like to welcome Edward Kendrick on my blog today. We both celebrated the publication of books with Silver yesterday and so we decided to promo each other.

Abstract Realism
Abstract realism is difficult to explain because of the infusion of two distinct styles of art: abstract and realistic. Abstract does not attempt to depict real objects, as it is concerned only with the colors, lines, shapes and rhythms that create the artwork. In a sense, abstract art is art without a concrete, physical construct to work from. Realistic art aims to create realistic interpretations of real objects. When you combine these two concepts, you get a new style of art that attempts to depict the emotions behind a particular real-life object.
The goal of abstract realism involves using abstract painting techniques to slightly distort a real object. Artists take an image and distort it through impressionist, surrealistic and expressionist techniques to make the painting recognizable but somewhat blurred and distorted. You might think of the technique of abstract art as looking at an object through the bottom of a clear glass. The image is still there, but it has been misshaped by the refractions from the glass.

 (A)bstract realism is a form of art that sits between realistic depiction of the world and a non representational abstraction. No longer are the two separate and opposed, but come together to strengthen each other and form an alloy. The artist who can make realistic images, but takes that skill and creates a more abstract painting that is greater than sum of them both.

A few examples of the abstract realism style of painting:

In my story, ‘Abstract Realism’, Tonio, an artist, becomes the physical embodiment of his own abstract realism style when he is viciously attacked, leaving his body, and his spirit, horribly scarred.

* * * *

Tonio, an artist, is in seclusion after being viciously attacked by the lover of a casual acquaintance in an act of jealousy which scarred Tonio inside and out.

Tonio’s only contact with the world is his sister Jessie, who implores him to shed his self-imposed exile. When his paintings go on display at a gallery, Jessie convinces Tonio to attend the opening night and a party to be held in his honor.

Jonam, the handsome owner of a close protection service, offers to come to Tonio's aid when Tonio’s attacker begins to make new threats. The question then becomes, will Jonam be able to keep Tonio safe, and in the process teach him to accept he is not defined by the scars he carries but by who he is inside? Only if he can, will Tonio be able to live, and love, again.

Chapter 1
"I don't get it, Tonio."
I looked at my sister, well step-sister, over the top of the book I was reading. "Get what, Jessie?"
"You. There's a whole world out there," she waved her hand toward the window, "and you still stay sequestered in the apartment like a recluse. It's about time you started living again." She came over to sit on the arm of the sofa.
"I'm not a recluse," I told her a bit waspishly. "I go to work, I shop, I go to the park."
"You drive to your studio where you spend hours alone; your shopping brings you in contact with the check-out clerk and that's all. The park?" She shook her head. "You sit on a bench staring off into space or with your head buried in a book, ignoring everything going on around you."
"Must be a hell of a big book to bury my head in it." I held out my hands to demonstrate how big. Jessie swatted one of them, obviously annoyed that I wasn't taking her as seriously as she wanted. "Besides, that's not all I do there. I sketch a lot and you know it."
"You're drawing people, not interacting with them."
"Damn it, I don't want to interact…" I spat out the word, "with people. I don't trust them. Not anymore."
"They were three sick bastards, Tonio. Not everyone's like them."
"What about the ones who stood around and watched and did nothing?" I looked down at the scars on my arms. I couldn't see the others but they were there too, from my waist up.
"They were cowards," she said angrily.
With a shake of my head I disagreed. "They were voyeurs. Scared too, maybe, but they were getting off on watching me get cut. I could see it in their eyes. 'Look at the fag. He's not going to be so pretty anymore. Serves him right'," I spat out angrily. "At least those bastards didn't cut me here." I touched my face. "At least I can cover the scars with long-sleeved shirts when I do venture outside." I took a deep breath. "Besides, they're still out there somewhere."
"They're not looking for you, Tonio. You know the attack was completely random."
"So you keep saying, but if it was, why hasn't anyone else been attacked? It's been over a month now and nothing. Not that I want to read about someone else being attacked but damn it, Jessie."
What I didn't say, what I had never told her or anyone else, even the cops, was that I knew for damned sure it hadn't been a random attack.

Thank you, Sue, for allowing me to be here today. – E.


  1. Thank you for having me here today, Sue.

    1. You are welcome. I can't wait to read your book.