Great Moments

@2009 P Scarborough Square 9 12x12 pastel & graphite

Last post I promised you a very cool surprise. The plan was to unveil it this weekend, and as creative endeavors often go, it had a plan of it's own. Since it's important to make certain that this project is the best it can be, we'll just take a little bit longer to cross all the t's and dot all the i's.

Be patient. It'll be worth it. I promise.

The piece at the top of the post is another in my Square Series. It's a pastel and graphite, which is a combination that I've never used before. This time, it just felt right. Using a pencil to lightly cross-hatch over the soft tones of pastel helped created a tension that gave me what I was after. It's a loose application of both media, less a memorial to this small dot-on-the-map community than it is to that time when dusk becomes daylight in a working class town. It's about that moment that exists in a person's awareness, in the midst of all the lists of things to do and worry about, that instant when the brain is awakened to sunlight breaking through early clouds. It only lasts a second before being washed away by more lists and worry and the detritus of life. I think about this stuff when I paint. It's important to share, somehow.

In other news, I just got the nicest Christmas gift ever. Twice.

A very nice lady said to me the other day: "Since I've gotten to know you, my view of the world has changed. I see so much more color than I ever have. I see shapes and textures I've never noticed. Now, when I see a field of grass, I see so much more!"

And just this morning, on our daily constitutional, Handsome Husband said very nearly the same thing. "I enjoy our walks so much more than I used to", he said. "You've helped me notice things I would have overlooked before."

As an artist, it's my goal to touch another with my view of the world.

To actually hear that I have, in some small way, done that is, well, just really nice.

I understand that my kind of art will not cure cancer, nor will it stop people from fighting. The globe will warm - or not, and there'll be no magic cure for reality. That's okay.

If my small accounting of a flash of sunlight on a dusty grain elevator early in the morning can
snap your overloaded brain out of it's daily grind and give you pause to be refreshed, that'd be lovely.

It's an honor to know that what I create can give someone a sense of peace.

It's delightful to know that what I paint can give somebody a reason to step outside of their oh-so busy life and see the world in a fresh way.

Bring on the holidays, I'm ready. The nicest gifts ever have already been delivered.