Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Last Light at Tybee: New Painting

Winter knocks here in the mountains with chill wind- although today the sun came out, and I worked outside, taking advantage of the brief warmth in the afternoon, until shadows and cold forced River dog and myself back inside. This is a painting I began at Tybee Island and finished up today. Are my boots old? Is my coat torn? Oh, yes! There is paint on the hands, on the clothes. There is no such thing as perfection around here, nor is it wanted. What matters is my work, of loving the world, of being astonished. Sometimes magical things transpire in paintings: this one has a fleeting glimpse of the historic Cockspur Lighthouse in it. I did not consciously paint the lighthouse, but it appears.

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be

excerpt from "Messenger" by Mary Oliver

No comments:

Post a Comment