Blood on the Paintwork
In the studio this week, I continued an exploration of Hirons’ poem and trying to capture some big emotion. I didn’t know until I knew, but the wild god was at the door.
A random post I read. A text or two. And then, the knowing.
The knowing and then the heaviness. The weight of loss: of one of the great painters, art instructors and encouragers, Dianne Nance. She was the one who pointed me in the direction of the peculiar - she said "go there." She opened my eyes to artists I’d never heard of or imagined, and infused me with the courage to dare try anything. She shrugged her shoulders when I presented her with something bland and said “so what?” Her eyes sparked with surprise when I brought in something boundary-nudging (or pummeling). Oooooooh yaaaaaasssss.
She was too young and vibrant to be gone already. Life feels exceptionally fragile and brief.
This piece is for her - the daring, the baring, the boldly sharing.
2/9/2023 08:56:45 am
The knowing, Lola.
2/9/2023 09:22:09 pm
Dotty....thank you, dear friend. I so appreciate you. Sending the biggest hugs. xo
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