|Tracking 8"x 8" cold wax on panel|
|Crossing The Earth At Dusk 16"x20"|
In slight horror, I began to investigate my relationship with my work. It was a humbling experience to see that I am not a good listener. In fact I am quite deaf to what my paintings might be saying to me most of the time. If you were my painting, you wouldn't give me the time of day. I realized I am bossy, often beginning work without any enquiry as to what might be needed, to what the painting might want, suggest, be asking for. You'd probably give me a smack upside the head if we worked in the same office.
I certainly am not at all good company for my work. I rarely just hang out with it, sit and appreciate. I think I don't really know how to be a good companion to my work. I watched a documentary a while back on Leonardo da Vinci and when he was painting The Last Supper he would visit the painting for days on end and just look at it, never lifting a brush. Now that's companionship, that's listening.
|The Trees Are Calling Your Name 12"x12"|
I notice a feeling of tenderness toward these little entities, these brave, new, embryos of paintings. I can remember my Zen teacher used to say in relation to our practice and all the goofy things we do, "the eternal can wait forever, how long can you wait?" I get the same feeling about the paintings. They are in no hurry. They humour, they tolerate and they wait. They wait for me to learn, they wait for me to see, they wait for me to listen. They are the best teachers. Unlike me, they are never bossy or frustrated. They never demand or criticize. I think sometimes they smile and wink and call gently from the corner. And then they always look so pleased when I happen to get it right. Who could ask for more in a relationship really?