Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I Love Ya, Tomorrow!
On my last post, I said I’d show how my journal pages had “progressed.” I specifically mentioned tomorrow, but it came and went. (What does tomorrow mean in blogland, anyway? It all depends when you read it.)
Why did I miss my deadline? Because, of course, as soon as I saw what I had painted the night before, I had to add another touch here, and there. Anyone who paints knows that a slight touch-up can turn into hours of painting. In fact, a slight touch-up can result in an entirely NEW painting.
Now I am at the stage where I have to look at them with a more analytical eye ~ see what needs to be emphasized, or de-emphasized. Decide if I need any new washes, of color or white, or titan buff. I might even have to add a whole new collage section.
And, I start seeing what the pieces are telling me, even more clearly. Such as the fact that in dps 01-2, that little house is quite askew. And there is a very steep climb that suggests some kind of learning curve.
In any case, here are the five facing pages again. DPS stands for double page spread. Facing pages sounds much more genteel.
This one strikes me with all the force of an open book. Books have always been VERY POWERFUL vehicles of change in my life. This was probably the most surprising image of the five. The underpainting did not suggest this to me at all ~ it just happened.
The pelvis halves look like musical instruments. This painting has a suggestion of story, but nothing has clearly emerged except the word “fecundity.” Musical pelvises, eggs, a golden path, a green stairway ~ none were deliberately created, but here they are, and a certain thrill trembles within me as I contemplate the abundance they point to.
That vase of flowers is probably going to have to go, but right now I am just enjoying the sweet presence of the flowers within. It’s as if a curtain is opening on an electric green stage. Once again, something is emerging here that I can’t quite see yet.
I like the fact that OPEN is written on the figure’s face, but her eyes are closed. She is supposed to open to something she cannot see, making this an inner opening. The shapes are swirling around her, and the small mean abode to the left (and below) is fading. It is strange that her wings are outstretched, but she looks stationary. Perhaps she is “testing her wings?”
These are the kinds of questions I ask myself, the sort of observations I make, as I look at the paintings that flow out of a fairly intense painting session.
I treat paintings like dreams. I interpret the symbols that emerge, the colors, the emotions surrounding each one, and then just wait for corroborating “evidence.” They can come in the form of songs, poetry, conversations, birds flying across the sky, the sun streaming through dark clouds (or curtains)..
And comments, from you.