I am Not Giving Up Pears

I am Not Giving Up Pears

"I am Not Giving Up Pears" - acrylic on gallery wrapped canvas, 16 x 20 x 1.5.  Ready to hang.  Available here and at Artfinder.

If I go to the pear tree for a pear, I am taking care of myself by actively nourishing my body.  If I sit under the tree and gaze at the last flowers of the garden, I am taking care of a deeper need: the need to respond to beauty.  I am not giving up pears, but I am more richly expanding my experience of the universe by allowing myself to appreciate more of it....It is the gateway to grace, the complement of effort.
- DAVID RICHO

I think I've spent most of my life going to the pear tree for a pear.  Maybe never noticing the tree, the last flowers, the sun on my face.  I got a lot accomplished this way, but there was so little richness in the days.

Now I spend more time gazing than gathering.  More time waiting than doing.  More time feeling than pushing past or through.  And boy oh boy have I learned to love naps.  Now and again I am even late for something. 

There is a terrifying amount of mental chatter that goes along with a shift like the one I've made (and am still making) - who's going to get all the things done?  Who will keep track of the things that need to be done?  What will people think when I'm not doing, going, making, solving, handling, communicating, taking care of  (and so on) to my fullest ability?  I am shushing myself a lot.

Thich Nhat Hanh passed away two days ago.  I sobbed.  His voice and words are in my ears, softly suggesting I just tend the lettuces and see the interconnectedness of all things.  There is no hurry.  There is only now.  I think he might be right there, in the bark and fruit of the pear tree, in the sunshine and the clouds, in the rain and the soil, in you and in me, sitting there under the tree.

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About the art:  working from a notanized image and beginning with Stabilo woody pencils, sketching in the darks and putting a wet brush on the pencil to create a light value sketch.  Slowly adding the requisite 80 million layers of light washes and resisting the desire to make hair something other than an abstract idea.  Allowing sprayed water to move paint.  For this piece I stayed with three colors (a warm red, a dark blue and a dark brown) plus white and titan buff.  Liberal use of rubber wedge, a large, dry house painting brush and paper towels for blending.