Arrival at the Precipice

"Arrival at the Precipice" - mixed media on 300 lb watercolor paper, 22" x 15".  Ready to frame.  Available here and at Artfinder.

​More experimentation and following the paint, leaving remnants of markings and shapes, carving back into the paint and scraping away seeking buried treasure.  This process makes me jubilant!  Again, that 300 lb cold pressed paper can take a beating, lots of water, scraping, carving and even sandpaper.  I wonder if it would be rugged if I made luggage out of it?  Hmmmm.

This week I am reading ​Mozart's Starling, an exquisite little book recommended by artist Dotty Seiter.   I find myself gleefully racing to bed in the evening for a dose of this sweet novel.  But I wondered why the universe plopped it into my hands at this particular time, when I've been on a science-fiction obsession for months.  

I didn't know that Mozart kept a pet starling.   This would have been at a time in history when the accepted philosophy about animals had just moved from thinking no creature but man had feelings or suffered pain to thinking all creatures were created to enhance man's 

experience and therefore be tended to, treated kindly and observed.  Household pets became common, including birds.

As I read the descriptions of the Mozart family's likely relationship with the bird, including cage-free frolicking when no visitors were around, I realized exactly why this book was in my hands.  The anniversary of my dad's passing is next week, and he, like Mozart, kept a bird.  A bird who sat on the edge of his breakfast plate and ate scrambled eggs while leaving poops on the newspaper.  A bird who slept cuddled under his neck, occasionally checking his mustache and nose for interesting artifacts.  Dad was a big fan of Mozart, and Jujube and my dad likely listened to Mozart while drifting off together in the chair, dad draped with a huge beach towel (or poop catcher).

When someone we love passes, it is hard to mentally place them anywhere.   Something about this book (fully researched, full of philosophy and classical music) seems so dad-like.  The vision of him sitting in a salon with Mozart, each with their bird shadows busily exploring from the safety of their shoulders, clicks with me as where to visualize him now.  There is peace and a wee bit of closure in this thought.

​And now let's enjoy another human's pet starling, Stella, as she talks, whistles and blows kisses: