Work in Progress...sometimes its a shame to paint over the intensity of the underpainting

New piece in progress...still working out anatomy, geez the correction is never-ending!

High Beams

When I drive in the city at night

I never have to use the high beams.

There are lights all around, 

really don't even need headlights,

can barely see my own anyway. 

Recognition comes from 

the reflections of luminescence 

that lie ahead of me.

There is no need for disconcertion,

for the light surrounds.

It is warm, 

dazzling,

safe.

Everything can be seen,

the paths to be chosen are illuminated.

When outside the city limits,

way, way, way past the orange glow,

400 miles from the enveloping comfort that I ache for,

down a long, long stretch of uninhabited road,

cutting through towers of old growth forest and ancient glacial rock,

on a moonless, starless night,

darkness ... swallows me up.

The fog that floats in the air 

wraps itself around me,

sealing in the sound of silence.

Insignificance and invisibleness, 

palpable.

The mark I leave on this world 

all but erased.

No one to see the trails that follow the contours of my face

but I. 

No ears to hear 

the desperate 

fear filled 

gasps in my throat 

but mine.

In the midst of shadows,

the thickness of black,

The Dark Night of the Soul,

I am searching for my light,

trying to find the high beams. 

It is the only thing I have left,

if only a few feet at a time,

that will show me the path to follow.

11 - 29 - 2014

Study - oil pastel

Noooow its done...Finding My Voice

Sweetness

I don't watch the news much anymore
It is full of stress and fear
It curls my forehead into trenches of pain
Pain is a part of life
something we all go through
I am learning just that
To go through it
To feel it
Instead of focus on it


There is so much sweetness in the world
that could move into the lens instead
So much softness to give
So much understanding
So much fine detail to appreciate
So much undulation of surface
So many scars to caress
So many tears to kiss


I watched my fathers forehead slowly curl into trenches of pain
as I expressed the past I have endured
Instead of feeling the anger
that I held onto in my years of silence
a sweetness emerged from my core
I recognized the stress and fear
and compassion took its place
I did not wish for him to feel this pain
any more than he wished it for me
I wished to cradle his face in my hands
smooth the trenches away with my palms
kiss the tears from his heart that he could not shed
I wished to tell him that even though I endured
it was ok now
Through my courage to share
and his willingness to listen
the pain was now free to fly away
That bird is caged no more
and I have found my song
It was always there
inside my heart shaped box
I just had to learn
that in order to receive a gift
all you have to do
is open it

Oct. 6th, 2014

Reflection

Sometimes the reflection

is easier to look at than the actual sky

When the water is still

details are clearer

colors are richer

light is less intense

The sky itself is so penetrating

the rays from the sun just a little too bright

The warmth is visceral and overwhelms you

The soft skin of the wind brushes your cheeks and holds your face

When the senses are stimulated it is distracting and impossible to see the experience objectively

On the other hand, 

why would you want to 

Experience is not objective

It's not logical

There is no formula 

It pulls and pushes in whatever way the want goes

and if you fight the current, you will drown 

Better to learn how to ride

Close your eyes

Let the moment carry you

Like a ripple that slides across the surface

Or a cloud that transforms with each gust

Or the dancing water diamonds that hypnotize 

Let the trance relieve you from the sky's imposition

But in the evening, or in the morning

when the luminance is soft

You will always return your gaze to the heavens

For the reflected illusion lays only on the surface

and the sky...

It holds no limits

Gets deeper 

the longer you look into it

Is renewed with every passing second

Is made of the very same thing that you are

And even when you turn away

it will always be there



Sept. 28th, 2014