Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Planets could collide


I'm painting in the front yard again and there is a point in my work when I cease to notice ANYTHING but the painting in front of me.


The traffic and playground noises fade and I slip away into the warm, white light that is the world at the end of my paintbrush. I'm happy there, pain subsides and there's peace and joy that fills you to the point you feel you'll burst before it flows through and surrounds you.


Yes, planets could collide and I'd never notice so you can imagine my surprise to hear the mail carrier say "It's looking good, how long have you been working on it?"


 I answered without thinking and said "15 years" He looked both stunned and puzzled and then after an awkward pause he replied " I've just seen you working on it the last couple of days"


My mood had broken by then so I explained. "I don't get this type of lily very often". It would have been pointless to explain that it's very hard to capture the real "essence" of it. For me that's more than the shape, color or size. It's about capturing the way it makes me feel so that beyond looking like a lily, it feels like one too.

I discovered that hours had gone by so I washed up my brush and palette then decided to make some coffee. Looks like break time...

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