Child's Play, Or My Inner Muse?

This is is one of the most satisfying passages I have painted in weeks.

I did these with a finger.

Dribbles? No problem, let them run.

And this base for tall grasses...done with a rag.

We're painting wetlands here, so it needs to be wet. It has to have some juice. Without that, it's just plants on the water. That's fine too. But I want more.

Things happen at the edges. Where one thing is itself and then it bumps up against another, things happen. Energies, rhythms, exchange. It may look peaceful on the surface. Clouds may drift by, birds may chirp, but depending on where one is on the food chain...well, things happen. I am talking about where water meets land, and sky meets earth. There are canopies and layers of life and death. There are struggles and triumphs, dangers, and joys. To me they have to be painted in. It cannot be just plants on water. The piece has to breathe and move. It has to engage.

It has to hint at the life behind it. So it has to engage me. Art is one time when me first is a very good thing. Rules and physics are all important in art, but paintings have to live. To me, it's personal, it's sensual, it is a part of me. This part, this freer part has been tucked away too long. A few weeks ago I had to go to the silks, or scream. Yes, mild mannered me. I am antsy, restless and have been caged too long.

There is so much percolating within. It just won't fit in a box tucked away. So I finger painted yesterday. My hand touched the paint, not my brain. My eyes chose the color, not my head. And my heart made it move across the sky and the clouds. Yep. It was scary. My connection to these things has to heal. Too much loss, too many deaths, too much pain. But I want my joy back, I want my wonder, I want to thrive. So no barriers yesterday. Nothing in between me and the paint and my heart.

Brush wants in on the action, he's been patient, but he wants in...music? Sure brush..



There. Ready now, brush? I'll let you play a bit too. Let's do it.