Inspired by the writings of Annie Dillard comes Sublime. It wasn't like I was reading her texts at the time I was painting. But having spent quite some time in and around her words they have probably nested themselves somewhere deep in my core. As I looked at the finished, still unnamed, pieces I reached for her book "Teaching a Stone to Talk" in my bookshelf and flipping through it my eyes caught the lines "They went partly in search of the sublime, and they found it the only way it can be found. Here or there - around the edges, tucked into the corners of the days." And it pretty much sums up the feeling I had as I approached these pieces. That the sublime ( as in the grand, glorious, elevated ) is found in the every days of your life. Not in the big gestures or the crescendos that comes from the anticipation of major events. It will, and shall be found in the little things. Dust slowly falling to the floor reflecting light, the last star of the morning or a breath of air in a pine forrest pungent with the hot, sticky scent only firs produce. Simple, desired and beautifully short.
I intuitively start each painting with one color, one shape. And then I have to let it sit until it speaks to me, until it tells me where it wants to go next. And that becomes the process. Back and forth adding new shapes and colors. Balancing, disrupting and finding ways forward. Each shape sort of represent a story, a memory and they either rest on each other or fit into each other bind by tiny strips of gold or black. The strips are what binds everything together. To me they represent love. Love as the only power to heal. Yourself, others and the world as a whole.