Here we are, at the end.
The end of the exploration of Tom Hiron's wild god and all the poking and prodding and demanding it has made of us - a gut-check and a reminder to nurture our passions. Oh and Oh.
There is something deeply satisfying about creating a body of work in response to a poem. Beginning last summer with Nudge - Shove with Sylvia Plath's poetry and artist Helaine Abramson, the unfurling of a thread between the words, the thoughts, the emotions and the arts became a lure, a whisper, a nudge. (Helaine and I will travel this path again, we think! But view last summer's exploration here.)
Wandering with Hiron's wild god in the paint pushed me places I've not been, and also renewed passions I had let wither a bit. Not dissimilar to the wanders my husband and I take in the wilds, where the ways are difficult but the payoff is placing your feet (and eyes and ears and skin and heart) places where you've not imagined before. Oh again.
The full poem and the paintings it inspired are gathered for viewing here. A solo exhibit, of sorts. My cheeks are wet with tears, my mouth aches from laughter and shouting. A minotaur sits in the paint.
About the art: beginning with a gesso'd linen canvas, "drawing" the figures on in a toned neutral oil paint thinned with Liquin. Wiping away the paint to create the highlights - removing details with a battery-powered eraser tool. This creates texture and grit where the paint has been absorbed into the linen and removed on the high points. Adding in darks and color. Deciding the man needs hair and a beard like seaweed, as the story reveals itself and the characters tell me what they want to be. Resisting the urge to perfect and correct. Allowing the paint to direct and murmur. Wishing I could be hugged by a minotaur.