I don't know what comes first. The words, the feeling, the colors. Or just all of it intertwined as a braid. Building the whole picture. Sometimes it's a reflection of sun on snow, sometimes a word, a gesture. Or the smell of coffee in a place called home. There is usually a spark and that's where I start.
These paintings where not inspired by the poem Sunrise, by Mary Oliver. I made them and then the poem surfaced in my mind. Or maybe it was just there all along, the words, I just didn't notice. I love the process like this. Just letting go of the idea of what something should be - and just let it happen. Let mind, spirit, heart and hand braid themselves into a beautiful whole.
Mixed media 50x70
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S U N R I S E
You can
die for it -
an idea,
or the world. People
have done so,
brilliantly,
letting
their small bodies be bound
to the stake,
creating
an unforgettable
fury of light. But
this morning,
climbing the familiar hills
in the familiar
fabric of dawn, I thought
of China,
and India
and Europe, and I thought
how the sun
blazes
for everyone just
so joyfully
as it rises
under the lashes
of my own eyes, and I thought
I am so many!
What is my name?
What is the name
of the deep breath I would take
over and over
for all of us? Call it
whatever you want, it is
happiness, it is another one
of the ways to enter
fire.
