- Published on
The Realization of Her Own Oddness
"The Realization of Her Own Oddness" - oil on cradled wood panel, 12 x 24 x 1.75 inches. Ready to hang. (click on the image to purchase)
The first time I saw hundreds of fiddlehead ferns boiling in an enormous pot I realized
what an odd person I must be to hear tiny cries from the mouths of cooking vegetables.
- FROM FIDDLEHEADS BY MAUREEN SEATON
Around this time last year, a poem (Sometimes A Wild God, by Tom Hiron) inspired me to create a body of work. (See The Wild God)
The poem informed the work, which informed my understanding of the poem. I don't know how poetry works for you, dear reader, but for me the best way to really "get" one is to spend a little time each day with it.
When I first read Seaton's Fiddleheads, I had the same visceral response as I experienced with Sometimes A Wild God - Oh! THIS!
So off we go, a little piece at a time.
The first time I saw hundreds of fiddlehead ferns boiling in an enormous pot I realized
what an odd person I must be to hear tiny cries from the mouths of cooking vegetables.
- FROM FIDDLEHEADS BY MAUREEN SEATON
Around this time last year, a poem (Sometimes A Wild God, by Tom Hiron) inspired me to create a body of work. (See The Wild God)
The poem informed the work, which informed my understanding of the poem. I don't know how poetry works for you, dear reader, but for me the best way to really "get" one is to spend a little time each day with it.
When I first read Seaton's Fiddleheads, I had the same visceral response as I experienced with Sometimes A Wild God - Oh! THIS!
So off we go, a little piece at a time.
Seaton's opening sentences in this poem give us the opportunity to play fill in the blank in our own lives:
what an odd person I must be to__________
what an odd person I must be to__________
- feel the sighing melancholy in the tilt of a robot's head
- delight in the madness of big storms and thunder and raging wind, hail and rain
- wonder what goes on in the minds of ants and spiders and what their eyes see
And so on. But in asking (and answering) the question, there is a slight lift of the spirit - I am odd, but so are all people, really. We're connected that way.
Embracing each other's oddness is a lovely thought for a Monday.
Embracing each other's oddness is a lovely thought for a Monday.
About the art: the AI bot is learning my innermost ballgown bot dreams. It has begun layering my reference images with dripping fabric and paint, spring pastels and the soft hint of wings. Oh oh and OH! Beginning with a cradled wood panel gesso'd in white and drawing the form shapes with colored pencil. Working from the outside in for the base layers to keep the form edges crisp, then from the inside out to allow the oil-thinned paint at the bottom of her gown to drip and mix with the background underpainting. Brushes, rubber wedges, fingers and a soft cloth were used in creating this piece. Allowing the thickness of final paint layers to create texture and fabric folds. As always, resisting the urge to perfect, walking away and looking back from a distance to see her essence. I think she's quite content.
This poem - oh my gawd. I'll share the rest of it over the course of the April posts. It has me gobsmacked!
Where would we be without each other's oddnesses? Nowhere, I tell you!
Embracing each other's oddness is indeed a lovely thought for a Monday.
And blessed we are to have whatever oddsome oddnesses come to life on the canvases you paint, Lola!
C.S. Lewis
Oh I love your Madlibs fill-in-the-blanks prose, especially your answer about blustery weather. I love me a good, wild storm. One of my favorite childhood memories was standing outside and watching the grey -black striated sky and feeling the air pressure drop as a tornado was passing by in a nearby town. Terrifying but awe-inspiring. All senses engaged.
Thanks so much by the way for my painting, so so excited.
And Wonder Mike says "you're most welcome - thanks for participating!!!) xo