When my son Jay was maybe 14 or so, I dropped him off at a local fishing hole one evening. On my way home I was aware of the many twists and turns my train of thought took as I drove, and I wondered where Jay's thoughts might meander while he fished. When I picked him up I asked.
Mom: Jay, what kinds of things did you think about while you were fishing?
Mom: Well, yeah, but what else did you think about?
Jay: I studied the surface of the water to see where fish might be.
Mom: But what else?
I was incredulous.
When I paint, every now and then I experience that same grace of focus and flow. I pick up my fishing pole and study the surface of the water to see where the fish might be.
I had a few such moments today.
|Hearing My Inner Voice Over the Cacophony|
4x5"; acrylic, grease pencil, and collage on paper,
mounted on card stock