At the Water's Edge

I spruce up yesterday's messy-middle work in progress—I mix colors to match early layers, paint additional layers for more depth, bring more fullness and polish to the piece. I get out my ink pens, sharpen the definition of lines, clean up edges. 

Then, nothing. 

The painting isn't in a mood for conversation. It still seems to be in a middle place, now a tidy-middle, a cleaned-up version of itself, a middle that nods off and falls asleep.

I turn my attention to other pursuits.

Some hours later, I return to find that little painting wide awake, chatty, and interactional. It's not shy about prodding and nudging. 

Get messy, it exhorts. Splash around a little! Get some sand between your toes!

So, I do.

Splashing at the Water's Edge
4.5 x 6"; ink, acrylic, and oil pastel on drawing paper
abstract
2022

Disrupted Ions

You know how good-byes feel. 

How the air gets excited 

when all its ions 

and electrical charges 

are disrupted, 

first by the intent to leave and 

after 

by the leaving itself. 

Then, 

when the bodies move away 

through space, 

they create empty pockets 

where feelings get caught

and eddy around in the vacuum, 

creating little vortices 

of sadness. 

    —Ruth Ozeki, All Over Creation 

That's how it felt when Martha left on Sunday after a laughter-rich five-day cross-country visit.

I selected a sheet of drawing paper, picked up markers, and turned to mark-making and softening sharp corners.    

little vortices of sadness as a work in progress