Completed a piece today, called Fool's Gold.
I wish I could find words to express how deep a painting can take you, how much of life's moments and challenges are worked into the canvas etched there in brush stroke and textures.
How do you tell someone, that everything in a living moment is held suspended in a hovering paint brush, or the scrape of a palette knife. That your finger tips running over ruff textures hold beauty, brilliance and something more...That rusted metals and scared fragments of an ancient langue contain all your fragmented parts and life is held together in those moments where life is left on canvas. It's a mystery far beyond me...
Since coming to this place of art, I have learned to hold things more deeply but not forever, just in those blazing moments where life meets canvas and is strong enough to hold it.
I wish I could find words to express how deep a painting can take you, how much of life's moments and challenges are worked into the canvas etched there in brush stroke and textures.
