Tagged With: compassion
Colour Pages #7: White
Veritas. It’s dark down there – difficult to see, to dig and keep digging. At the bottom of it, when you get there, you find an understanding that changes the shape of your world. I’ve just watched a film about a young prosecutor with great natural integrity who is working in Frankfurt just […]
If if if, say the Bells of Cardiff
The soft November morning spills sun across these paintings that were born two days ago. I awoke today into the same magic I felt as a child on Christmas: bees, bells, and frequencies, all over my studio walls, all transforming into their new place in paint before my eyes. You owe me five farthings, Say the bells of St. […]
Inclusion
Drippy Sunday morning; the world outside has shrunk …which appropriately rhymes with Funk, because Funk is precisely what I’m in. … niggly, prickly snappish me with a million essential things to attend to but instead I chop a fridge full of vegetables and chicken into tiny tiny pieces, beat up a dozen eggs, fry severed […]
#Selfie 18: Spiral in; Spiral out
4:30am in the studio is like hanging out with a special old friend I’ve not seen for a long time. We both like gentle light, strong hot coffee. We share a deep enjoyment of the act of listening to the day as it begins. I feel my face wake up, muscle by muscle, and take […]
#Selfie Post 3: Paralysis
Week 2 of Selfie Project: goin in… I need to come clean and report that I experienced two days of work paralysis after the shock of posting my face online 4.5 days ago. I actually needed to sleep off the bewilderment of feeling exposed before I could find my focus again & get back to the work. I […]
Demons and Memory
My friend these forty-eight years and fifty to come is reserved but possibly this is because he is so exquisitely aware of and compassionate with his audience. If you can lift yourself to the place where he responds, appropriately, to the dynamics and currents of the moment, you will hear him, clearly and cleanly like […]
Fig Leaf on a Snow Day
Open-faced and shovel-sore, I stare out the window at a thousand-thousand demons of whirling, whipped snow. I think about beauty, and the job of art. If there can be a line we take towards healing the terrible distortions of our belief systems, I think it must be drawn by artists. There can be no measured, […]
in the dark of the moon
The clouds are pale indigo-violet, then a blustery bruised grey shot through with long warm lines of golden sunlight and rich blue – this sets the red reds and the yellow yellows and the living greens in brilliant, stop-in-your-tracks collaboration. I feel as though I’m watching the gods at play in a game where they […]