Investigative
vulnerability.
That's the infusion that penetrates the cells in my body as I conduct my surrender experiment. I move organically and intuitively from mark to color to splatter to snip to adhesion to completion.
I generate a rectangular tiny-art painting and then cast about my messy studio for materials with which to create finishing touches. I mount the painting on black paper just barely larger than the painting itself so as to contain the composition by outline. Then, in riffling through a bin of potential collage material, I bump into a gardening calendar page featuring up-close-and-personal, larger-than-life Gerbera daisies.
Bingo!
A frame!
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| Telegram From the Heart: Sit Out in the Sun 4 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, pencil, ink, and collage on canvas-textured paper abstract 2021 |
6 comments:
Wooow! That's really Surrender. To what this one Present Moment brings us!
Beautiful. It looks like stained glass.
Bye!
Simone
omg I love this! And I agree with Simone...stained glass! Those darks - always my favorite part. I love them coming into the composition and twirling me around.
Thanks for your comments, Simone.
So much delicious surrender. The stained glass quality was pure happenstance, the result of call-and-response, call-and-response, do something/see something and respond.
For example the splatter in my painting and the pollen-covered stamens in the calendar-page photo of Gerbera daisies both existed independently of each other before my hands/eyes bumped into and uncovered the synchronicity of them together!
Thanks for your feedback, Jen, with your attention to the darks —— a favorite part of mine as well. Once they found a home in the painting, they became the call to which I responded with the black borders, all of which black together became the "cames" (new term I just learned!) of grooved lead making a whole of the (simulated) stained glass pieces. Love that the twirly bits have you twirling.
I love how the colors seem to be flowing and undulating. LOVE! :)
Thx for that perspective, Sheila. I agree, lots of undulation; almost a pulsing at times.
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