Maine is north of Massachusetts.
In my subconscious and admittedly simplistic mind, when I drive to my folks’ house, I drive straight north for three hours and then turn right—i.e. east—onto their street. Straightforward. Sun should rise at the right end of the house.
It does not.
In the darkness of a still sleeping house, I sit on the left side of the house on the loveseat in the little bay-window alcove where Muth liked to do crossword puzzles. I see the sky lightening, the sun rising.
In the west???
It does not.
In the darkness of a still sleeping house, I sit on the left side of the house on the loveseat in the little bay-window alcove where Muth liked to do crossword puzzles. I see the sky lightening, the sun rising.
In the west???
That about sums up my life-on-earth orientation right now—I am all turned round.
From my bare-bones weekend art kit I pull out canvas paper, ink pens, pastels. Find my way into a little sketch by dead reckoning.
 |
| Compass Rose 4.5x4.5", mixed media on canvas paper landscape 2015 $20 |
2 comments:
This reminds me of the fires here in Southern California that we are all acquainted with. The charred trees, and the emptiness that is left behind. I always find a beauty in the black trunks seen against the light sand and earth that surround them. For a few minutes I can forget about the devastation, and think of what will follow.... new life.
Love that Compass Rose fired up responses in you! Love that it evoked images so different from the scene that prompted me to paint—I'm picturing our being diagonally across the country from each other and yet we connected. The fire in my scene was the sun, the bare trees a signpost saying, "Long winter ahead. In fact, here are a few first snowflakes in case you can't read the sign." Love that in both cases, new life will follow.
Post a Comment