Thursday, July 8, 2010

Thursday July 8, 2010





I am thinking you have a wise and wondrous mind, so slow down, and allow the magic to unwind. You should know I am not really interested in the who, what, when and where of your life...or mine. It is the description of the journey in between. "How did you get there my dear?"

You spoke of the Lunar moth and I remembered the last time I visited your home, it was late at night, and we looked up to see the lovely creature sitting on the window pane. Your lovely form and color, pale green. You were breath taking to behold. It was the very first time and then you spoke in a low voice, "You know some moths are born without stomachs. They are born, they mate and they die. Their beauty is brief.

I cannot think of moths or butterflies without thinking of the picture so carefully painted by Annie Dillard. She wrote about the butterfly that came to life in the mason jar, in front of the class, on the teacher's desk. The jar was too small.

When the butterfly came to life and stretched his wings, there was not room to completely unfold them. The wings hardened. This all happened in the fall, with the implication that winter would come soon.

At the end of class that day. The teacher didn't know what to do with the crippled butterfly. And so, she set it free. Annie Dillard describes the scene, of how the butterfly looked from the back, as he limped down the drive.



I kneel down and plunge my finger into the warm sand;I pull my finger to myself, leaving a trace upon the ground. I am drawing, the earliest and most immediate form of image making. I am creating an authentic expression, closely allied with story telling. It is part of what it means to be human and through drawing, I never lose that sense of wonder.

When I draw, I am able to see, to attract, to convey, to drag, to elicit, to evoke, to extract, to gather, to haul, to hook, to pick, to puck, to pull, to tug, to wind in, to wrench, to yank, to follow, to explore, and to find the image I see; to find the answer that is honest pure, uncontaminated, direct, anti-monumental, and one not necessarily described as "art"...an answer that expresses the imagination, creativity and perhaps skill; a personal narrative. An answer that is simple.

Drawing has been regarded as simultaneously fundamental and peripheral. Drawing is essential to the artistic practice and the most basic skill an artist can possess. Drawing allows the artist to dream the endless dream making notes along the way. Drawing connects the artist to infinity and eternity; it is a map of time.

My drawings could be seen as pages of a diary or personal journal and like poetry, one idea dissolves into another and the work becomes a sequence of new images; like each new day, forever changing.

1 comment:

  1. Not too long ago I read "Prodigal Summer" by Barbara Kingsolver... in it there were a lot of moths and moth facts.. I think that some moths don't even have mouths - male moths- whose sole job is to breed and die.... strange metaphor as they are such fleeting things of beauty. Thanks for visiting RavenWood and for your comments!

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