Another snow-day gift…
So I’m throwing paint again: I find myself working in the round.
hmmm. walking through fire, maybe? in Tibet?
These are all underpaintings, and they’re all humming loudly. I’m excited to see what happens next, and next…
This canvas is many paintings that have all been painted over – I think the total is four. Maybe this one will work, since it will have smaller round companions. We shall see!
While I’ve been working today I’ve been thinking about how we all exist in and through relationship with other people. How love can transform what we see because it softens the barriers that we work so hard to maintain – and there are always miracles revealed. Love, music, poetry, art – we are better for these things. I do think it’s that simple.
Here’s Yeats mining a similar vein…
ALL things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,
The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,
The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould,
Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told;
I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart,
With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold
For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
WB Yeats – The Lover Tells of the Rose in His Heart