I wake up at 3am almost every morning. My body wants to sleep...
my mind wants to create.
We battle.
Blade to blade, tossing and turning.
I have to deliver art today. I'm not ready.
How can I not be ready?
Have I found you? Flightless Bird?
Last month I was sitting outside sketching and a bird swooped in and slammed into the window
sitting next to me. Snapping its neck. Followed I'm sure by the suck out of air as it hit the ground.
I picked it up, cradled it in my hands and watched it choke on its own blood; dying moments later.
SNAP. The sound your thumb and middle finger make when force-ably rubbed together and momentum throws your middle finger into your palm.
SNAP.
A lot of my artwork is representative of a moment in time, a movement, a way for me to collect a vision and tell a story with it. Usually its my own. I can ruler the lines, define the content...make it up as I go.
This collection is a bit different. I'm trying to create artwork for a space, tell their story, collect ideas that spring from their water source. It's just new to me.
When the bird flew into the window it just so happened to be at a time when I was studying the swoop. This swoop that the birds made into the valley is the inspiration for the art. I keep repeating this new style of wave I've been painting since last Feb. My lines are becoming easier, the flow is natural, the space fills with movement and energy.
Being consistent and having a body of work that shows evolution - mountains vs. seas. I'm just a little out of my comfort zone.
Study the swoop; pick up the carnage. Move on.
I have to accept the pause in the line, the static on the monitor, the time it takes for the thumb to cross over the finger, that sound...its more like a shift than a snap.
That's where I am at. The moment before the bird hits the window because the reflection was accurate yet false. Misleading. An oasis of doubt before triumph of passing on to something else....
the unknown.
So it was.
Here I am.
Talula
Talula.
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