If my nose were cut off
I would have no memories.
When I have lain awake all night
and my eyes are finally closing
I’ll get a whiff of something far off,
from another year,
another county ...
Sometimes there are only smells:
the smell of chickens;
the smell of Miss Finch’s stale breath
and the hard candies by her bed,
peppermint,
all stuck together with the heat of her house;
the smell of Matt’s math books
where you crack the bindings, they’re so new;
the smell of May in the kitchen
frying the onions.
Jane Hamilton, The Book of Ruth
On my wall!
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| The Smell of Freshly Cut Grass Itching at My Nose 24 x 48"; acrylic, charcoal, pencil, oil pastel, and collage on canvas abstract landscape 2020 |
8 comments:
ooooooooh WOW! This piece is fantastic!That gently sloping horizon line...the color blocking with texture...those reaching shapes taking us up and down and out and back. That light blue...my eyes keep resting there. Brilliant.
Jen, I'm reveling in all your visual-language feedback. woo hoo! 'Tis especially gratifying to discover I'd created movement w/o making a conscious effort to do so and that I'd created a little light-blue rest station. I am delighted! Thank you.
I am awe! Wow! Everything that Jen said and more! The spatial divisions, texture and color! Was so worth waiting for! A melody!
Carol, I'm cheering at your feedback! This piece was such an engaging process of unfolding. I began with no idea or intention, and finished with what felt like a surprise. Love that you referred to it as a melody!
I want to walk-skip along that distant ridge, cool my feet in that beckoning blue, and finish the afternoon with a glorious nap in that fresh, sweet grass. The kid in my is laughing at these happy thoughts/memories. And my soul is at peace. :)
Sheila, if I'd written a novel, I'd ask you to write 'advance praise' copy for the back of the bookjacket —— thanks for all the evocative feedback! Music to my ears. (Have I mixed enough metaphors here?)
!!!
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