There is a dark seed, breaking open a wave of energy that spills diagonally across the canvas. Allowing a spiraling fountain of white light to rise and drench the gray threads of time.
This is one of two paintings I started working on in September. You can check out what it looked like back then here.
After working in my studio, I slip into muddy gloves and go stomping in my wild patterned garden boots to reconnect with the physical world. In the garden, I absorb a natural balance of darkness and light that fuels a continual dance of life and death. There is something fascinating, in the way dirt clings to a twisted root ball and seeing faded summer flowers drop their ebony seeds, one by one into the mystery of soil.
It gets under my skin and works its way into my mind. I feel like I’m silently being taught about darkness as a place where the light is born. I want to pick up my brush and speak in colors because words feel like the wrong language for this story. I’m trying to get a sense of the energy that manifests brilliant colors of life, out of the hard darkness of seeds. It seems to me a never ending mystery. Maybe, I keep making paintings because I’m looking for clues.
above, working on my painting