This is an abstract that got away from me. I took a photo of the painting at this stage of finish, but then went and fiddled with it the next day and messed it up. At least I have a photo!
I am slowly, painstakingly joyfully inching my way through my doubts and lack of experience toward an art that expresses the emotion that lies behind each and every silly landscape I have ever tried to paint. The heart knows where it wants to go, but there is so much that needs to be unlearned, so much that has to be taken on trust in order to get there.
Tomas Transtromer also knew something about trust:
Schubertiana ...How much we have to take on trust every minute we live in order not to drop through the earth! Take on trust the snow masses clinging to rocksides over the town. Take on trust the unspoken promises, and the smile of agreement, trust that the telegram does not concern us, and that the sudden ax blow from inside is not coming. Trust the axles we ride on down the thruway among the swarm of steel bees magnified three hundred times. But none of that stuff is really worth the trust we have. The five string instruments say that we can take something else on trust, and they walk with us a bit on the road. As when the lightbulb goes out on the stair, and the hand follows - trusting it - the blind banister rail that finds its way in the dark. Tomas Transtromer (translation Robert Bly), from The Half Finished Heaven. Line breaks here are my own.
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