|Posted by Marney Schorr on March 26, 2015 at 1:10 PM|
Empty winter. Long dreary days. Hour by hour little comes. Days go by. I have felt alone. Preparing for something outside the dread of stillness. It has been hard to get comfortable with myself. Hard to get comfortable with these stone like mounds of snow. Walls, really, blocking me. Blocking connection, blocking good times shared with friends.
I have always embraced the winter, but this one felt cruel. I have loved and lost. I have been dormant in my own cold prison. I have not wanted to come out to play.
My paint brushes are hard from under use. They wait for me like long distant friends. Are you ok? They ask, Why have you not been around?
I don't know how to answer.
Except to say, amongst the grey a spirit lingers. It is a quiet time at the doorstep of rebirth. I will be home again in this skin. I have been playing with paper. Simple square sheets and the feeling of cool scissor blades making sharp curves. Shapes and placement, colors and opposition. Ways to be artful as the slowness ends and life rebuilds itself. Mother Nature will be waking from her sleep, thankfully for us all.
I will paint again. And it will be glorious. Hang in there, oh waiters of Spring. Let the floor of the earth become green again with growth. Warm our faces with sunlight and our hearts with the sound of opening.
Categories: In the Studio