Saturday, April 16, 2016

patience and its effects

Isn't it curious what we remember?  Doing art this morning, I remember one time I was at an elementary school friend's house.  Her mom was painting a coffee table red and black.  To determine which wooden planks to paint the alternate color, she tossed coins onto the table and painted whichever strips they landed on.  I think that image has stayed with me ~20 years because it seemed so utterly random, in a way I'm not sure I have ever engaged with when I think about creating something permanent.  

When I think of "The David," by Michelangelo, I remember being in the room with it in a museum in Florence.  My mental association is of my friend, sitting with her head low.  She was just catching a stomach bug that had affected our travel group.  I had returned from the gift shop with the only available plastic bag in case she needed it.  She looked up to me: "they don't have any that aren't clear?"

Funny what our minds choose not to discard.


beauty's byproducts

I am working on a (likely) 7-piece watercolor series in celebration of the Church's Year of Mercy, to be completed by this fall.  And repressing every vain bone in my body not to post the pieces as I complete them.  Instead, here's this morning's residue.  

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