A work in progress – nearly finished.
A few thoughts on painting …
I’m finding that I’m becoming more able to look at a rough shape in the early stage and “see” the thing I’m wanting to paint.
I’m working from a photo – I can see that, all the details, but I have to be able to see it in a different way – it’s as if I have to take the image inside and then project it back out onto the canvas.
And in that process things change a little – colours, composition.
It becomes real in my mind’s eye first – and then I need to create that on the canvas. That’s the challenge, the frustration – finding how to bring that inner vision into reality.
And another discovery – when I’m painting for someone else (as with this) it doesn’t feel right to share until they’ve seen it first. So I’m only comfortable sharing very early stages or oblique views – it’s as if – once I’ve started – it doesn’t really belong to me.
ready to release and renew
there is beauty in the most humble
even the dandelion longs to sing
This time of year is full of spirit, talk of the thin veil, acknowledging ancestors.
Here in the Southern Hemisphere, we are well into spring, and I’m focusing on renewal and finding beauty.
Blossoms are everywhere, scenting the air, delicate pale pink petals on my small apple tree. The weeds are doing their best to compete, bright yellow dandelion flowers shouting from the emerald grass.
This is such an intense time, saturated colour, and the startling speed of new growth.
The flax flowers are almost opening, and when they do, tui will circle the house, then land and feed.
And I’ve been reflecting on how I can release my work into the world. This year has had such a focus on the visual. I’ve been gifting paintings to my friends. My own little efforts to bring beauty into the world. My little blossoms in the wind …
a year ago today I said farewell
to my street child, my gypsy girl
my wild, fierce heart, my black queen
but in fact – she was never mine
she was always her own true self
a role model of feisty independence
she chose the best of times to cross over
and three weeks later she returned
to briefly burn
she stained my hands
indigo, alizarin, umber
she pushed my heart past fear and into passion
took me to the edge of obscured potential
of an essential choice
I felt the surge and flux
the rising breath