supernovaacrylic on canvas, 16" x 24"
supernova (backlit)
supernova (eclipsed)In the car on my way home today, yellow occurred to me and a slow wide smile crawled across my face. Yellow makes me happy, and I knew what I'd have to do when I got home.
When I broke out my supplies and set up a temporary painting space in the backyard, I was assaulted by myriad thoughts/impulses/sensations. A-10s and pigeons both screaming overhead with individual ideas of self; shrugging off a long day; JK Davies Day 23; how summer's haze lingers happily in the memory; a painting by my friend ReX in New Orleans; Susan Ersinghaus' Day 24 (which was inspired by Kevin Calisto's Day 20); the years-long shadow a fire can cast over a place; Claudine's mutterance, "warmth of their whiteness"; Coldplay's song "Yellow"; a hot, dusty wind and thoughts streaming as I scrubbed brush against canvas, turning it yellow and then white, yellow again, and finally landing somewhere in between.
I had a difficult time narrowing today's entry down to one image. I like the boldness of the top image ("supernova"), but I caught a glance of the canvas from behind and it struck me as dynamic and unexpected. Since I set up under the big mesquite out back, the leafy shadows played against the canvas, too, and that got me thinking of other things. How impermanent life can be. And how a painting can be art, but so can its picture taken in a moment that will never again exist except as a digital representation. And how I want so much to look back on this summer as my "summer of love." I probably won't, but I will most certainly be able to call it, lovingly, my "summer of paint." And I suppose that's something, too.
