Thank you all so very much for spending a few moments of your day here visiting. I truly appreciate each and every one of you, without you my art and writing would not have blossomed as it has for you have been such a support and encouragement to me. You have all become such cherished friends and our snippets of conversation via comments and emails are so precious to me. Everyday I feel such a deep well of gratitude for this wonderful online community. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being such an amazing support system.
Thank you all for the wonderful support you expressed for my latest piece of art, Elements of Nature. I had a few emails asking about the quotes of the text of the book, about the entirety of the text contained in the book, who the quotes were by, or if I would share the entire text. I am the author of the text and although I do not consider myself quote worthy, the excerpts can be attributed to me. The artwork was supposed to answer one or more questions that were posed in the open call. I chose to answer the question as if my art book could speak telling what it would say.
Here is the text in its entirety:
If I were to speak in the native tongue of man rather than in my natural visual form I would tell you of the passion behind the person who wrought me into being and how a peculiar trait in her rich and varied character remains to be noticed, for she is very good at hiding herself. Namely, that ardent and enthusiastic imagination which influences her whole course of creative thought. She possesses an appreciation of the magnificence of the large scale beauty of the natural world around her.
She is poetical of temperament, which is discernible throughout all her writings and in all her artistic works. To her, words and art have a connection, much like the intertwined fingers of admirers holding hands. There is an emotion being expressed, a silent communication being conveyed; they are two separate entities linked together by touch, each made better by the other’s loving presence.
In me, you see many of her descriptions of the beauties of the wild land she loves to explore and discover. There is the enthusiasm with which she makes the connection between her faith and her art, creation and the created. In me, you see where past and present often collide under the touch of the story weaver that lives within her, for more often than not there is a hidden story to be read in her body of work. Her memories are key connections in her artistic process, every bit as much as her tactile experiences in nature.
I extol the warmth of I the simmering summer sun. Radiant heat, painting itself over exposed skin, pinking it to the lightest blush, expressing the memory of sweltering Southern summers spent in the strawberry patch, the taste of juicy warm berries cooling the tongue.
The memory rises to the surface like light rays at the birthing of a new day. Sometimes I am an artistic expression of a long ago memory.
I express the purity of the atmosphere on full moonlit star studded nights. Shimmering wonder winking and blinking above, I conjure up canvas cots and light ration blankets lined up in a row, three wriggly lumps laying upon and under while breathlessly waiting to see who spots the first shooting star.
The moonbeams lull them into stillness as the inky sky begins its show. The fragrance of the air is full of dew and sweetness as the moon waxes and wanes. At other times, I am the reflection of an impression imbedded in my maker’s sensory memory banks.
I express the verdure of the forests that cover the hills and hollows of her home through both color and symbol. I speak of deep-down roots that tie her tightly to the land of her birth where conditions, like lush green kudzu, allowed her to spread out far and wide exploring and experiencing firsthand the marvels and sensations of nature where she spent hours and hours in rapt admiration observing, listening, feeling, thinking, and imagining.
The old Red Bud out back of her childhood home knew her best and kept her secrets hidden. They were concealed in the little hollow space at its knobby root. It took them to its grave, but she well remembers the safety of its shelter.
I express the intricacy and detail with which she likes to create. It is with fragile care that she gently weaves strands of this and bits of that interlaced and knotted with words and images, which are often a visual representation of her thoughts and feelings.
Distinct and what often looks bewilderingly complex comes to her as second nature, like a spider spinning its web, and gives structure, substance, and depth to her work.
As a child she once observed an Argiope aurantia (Black and Yellow Garden Spider) carefully pattern its orb web. Its orange spinnerets casting out silken thread creating an amazing and complex zig-zag pattern down the center. This experience taught her to pay attention to detail.
I express creative freedom and artistic adventure where the inception of new ideas are formed and begin being worked out. This gives wings to flights of fancy for the sheer pleasure of finding out if it can be done.
Creative freedom is a gift carried over from childhood, from Miss Polly in day school who let her paint rather than nap and to her mother who bought crayons, paper, scissors, and glue to keep her only child occupied.
Credit also goes to the uncle who gave her a cool art kit every year for Christmas and the grandmothers who taught her domestic skills that enhance her art today.
Encouragement from the person who once told her she could paint, then bought her paints, brushes, and a how-to-book and to all the influential artists in the creative community, these are the things that have given her wings.
I express the emerging artist who is slowing working her way out of her insulated cocoon and testing her new found wings. Her lack of formal art education has been a source of intimidation.
Her classroom has been life experience and the great out of doors. When once asked what she wanted to be when she grew up she said she has three choices in mind, an airline stewardess, a librarian, and an artist. The response of the adult was to tell her to stick to being a librarian it was safer.
She did not become a stewardess, she is well grounded and happy to experience the occasional flight of a pleasure trip, and she did not become a librarian and play it safe. Instead, she chose to become an artist who is just beginning to find her way in mixed media working towards developing her own signature style.
Her adventuresome spirit has taken her from the height and grandeur of the mountains to the depths of the crystalline purity of running streams.
Creator has spread all of creation before her and it is a glorious and golden world, everything tinged with its own unique texture, shape, size, and its own gorgeous hue. The natural world is her artist pallet of choice, her greatest influence, and her deepest joy.
The entire art piece can be viewed HERE.
My posting will be spotty at best this week and possibly next week. My mother is not doing well right now and a lot of my time and energy has to be directed there. We have a lot of appointments over the next week or so and I fear we are going to have to make some decisions as to her daily care which is about to break my heart. I may not be able to visit or post as much over this short time period.
I wish you all the most beauty filled days showered with blessings!