- Published on
How Strangely Still
How Strangely Still
oil on canvas paper
19 x 12 inches (plus a small border for framing)
How still,
How strangely still
The water is today.
It is not good
For water
To be so still that way.
- LANGSTON HUGHES
oil on canvas paper
19 x 12 inches (plus a small border for framing)
How still,
How strangely still
The water is today.
It is not good
For water
To be so still that way.
- LANGSTON HUGHES
The thing about chaos and unrest and dis-ease is this: when it is calm for a moment, you no longer trust the calm. Even the stillness feels threatening; the quiet malevolent. I think that's where we are in all the madness circumnavigating the geopolitical globe.
I saw a post by a friend this week noting that she felt depressed, saddened - even though the problematic situations in her close perimeter were all resolved. And I feel a bit of this as well. No matter how much I accomplish, how beautiful the day, how peaceful our home life and how rested and nourished I am, there is a sense of dread.
It feels unfair. Unfair to the people forced into bomb bunkers. Unfair to the detained and deported. Unfair to the marginalized, to those stripped of identity and rights, to those who are hungry or houseless or ill. What have I to personally be unsettled about? Is it fair for me to feel this?
Ah, yes, well my peace-loving, community- seeing self says this: we are all connected. And the more we lean into that connection, the more we allow ourselves to notice the strangely still water and allow ourselves to be wary and disturbed, the faster our response will be when our voices and actions our needed. We should feel ill at ease. Our global community hurts, and so must we.
Ah, yes, well my peace-loving, community- seeing self says this: we are all connected. And the more we lean into that connection, the more we allow ourselves to notice the strangely still water and allow ourselves to be wary and disturbed, the faster our response will be when our voices and actions our needed. We should feel ill at ease. Our global community hurts, and so must we.
About the art: a piece of gesso'd canvas paper; and artist with paint and a palette knife - what now? Ready? Set? GO! Draw a high horizon line. Begin laying in rectangles of color. See the light on the water. See the necessary dark, hidden troughs. Move the knife on its flat side with big arm strokes in a sky of mottled paint - moving upward and diagonally for movement. There. Walk away. Stop fiddling with it. It is done.
Watch and listen on YouTube!
And here's a little malarkey to start your week!
We ARE all connected. We ARE global community members. We cannot help but hurt right now.
Yep, nodding at you now. We cannot help but hurt. Thank you for being in this community, lovely human. xoxoxox
The painting is a masterpiece of simplification, yet it holds tension without resolution/ The design and the colors have us holding our breath in the defeating silence of that eerie stillness. great job as always! I'm looking for hope in my work this week. Keep on making that great art and making us think!
Carl
Hope...yes sir. Let's find that and spread it around! xo