Probably because I’m craving some time with brush in hand in front of a fresh canvas, I’ve pulled up an old drawing that reminds me of art for art’s sake. It also reminds me of the roots of what I do, and the kind of invisible forces that have driven me in the directions I’ve gone.
I say “invisible forces” because you can’t explain “why” you may have spent days drawing a larger than life Iris, or why it was an Iris you chose, not a face or an apple or a street scene. Of course there had to be a point of intellectual decision along the way, but you can’t necessarily say why in that moment it was a pencil you used, not a pen and not a brush.
Because time then becomes suspended ~ the same as it does for a musician, a dancer, a poet; conscious thoughts dissolve, almost as if your being, through the act of creating, becomes a meditation.
And it is this piece pulled up today, I believe, because it also speaks to me now, years later, of gentle unfoldings, as opposed to dramatic, coarse unravelings. It speaks to me of a natural grace within life ~ one perhaps we all wish to nurture and maintain but feel we seldom do. It whispers of quiet gestures and grand plans, and of patience, and the knowing that all things blossom best with care and water and light.