Charcoal Abstract

Work and family responsibilities are keeping me away from good studio time, so tonight I am just posting one of my morning charcoal abstracts that look like something promising.

This image emerged from the paper as I worked the charcoal and chalk into and out of the paper. In time it resembled something I have never been able to depict through deliberate attempts: light and shadow in a forest – perhaps moonlight shining through a dense bamboo forest?

In the deep bamboo forest I sit alone.
Loudly I sing and tune my lute.
The forest is so thick that no one knows about it.
Only the bright moon comes to shine on me.

Chinese poet Wang Wei,
quoted in: Creativity and Taoism, by Chung-yuan Chang

I keep circling back, in moments of the workday, to try and remain in touch with that hidden creative center.

...the first obligation imposed on the poet is to consent to be brought back
to the hidden place near the center of the soul, where this totality 
exists in the state of a creative source.

Jacques Maritan,
quoted in: Creativity and Taoism, by Chung-yuan Chang

Thank you for visiting my blog. I hope you are content and at peace.

 

11 thoughts on “Charcoal Abstract

  1. Hang in there dear Mr. T. Im almost home and then you can let your creative centre loose untill it spins like a balarina with a tutu. With abondon but completely in control – like just you can do it.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks my dear Kate. Ek het moeilike week. Werk is sooo boring en ek is van balans. Wil net alleen wees en paint en vreet soos ‘n chipper in die aande. ! Amper daar!

      Like

  2. Just love the Wang Wei poem! The line “sing loudly and tune my lute” sounds to me like total abandon. The lute out of tune, the singing a little too loud, but being in the deep forest gives the artist freedom from expectations. Frutiful dark?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Nadia. Yes, when I read those lines I was thinking “like a madman in the woods alone”. Sad to say it has been some time since I “danced naked, grotesquely, alone in my North room” as William Carlos Williams put it.

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    1. Like TS Eliot described: “the moment in the draughty church at smokefall” perhaps? (not sure what smokefall is, but if you know that verse in his 4 quartets, it is quite beautiful)

      Liked by 1 person

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