Early last week, I wrote about spending several hours working on a piece that seemed to go nowhere, had no rhythm or flow. I was trying to force things that just weren’t there and the whole thing gave me an anxious feeling. I decided to count it as a momentary setback and painted it over, erasing the failure and creating a clean slate on which to build something new . I then went to work, trying to quiet my mind and letting the piece grow bit by bit.
This is what has emerged.
I am temporarily calling this painting, a 36″ by 36″ canvas, Redemption Bay. It’s obviously named for the effort in reversing a failure but the name may fit in other ways, as well. I’m still reading it and trying to decipher exactly what it says to me. I can see many themes in it. Cycle of life, external guidance and so on.
It has the flow and rhythm that was missing in the first attempt, elements meshing together to create a movement that takes the eye through and into the piece. It’s exactly what I was trying to force in the failed attempt and came once I let the piece go on its own. It’s been my experience that my best work comes when I trust instincts over intellect. I’m going to spend some time with this piece and see how it grows on me now.
So far, so good.
Redtree Times 
I don’t know. I kind of like “Reunion Bay” –the river’s reunion with the sea, the people in the graveyard reuniting with the earth, the sun reuniting with the day, the reunions that the bridge makes possible, the reunion of your connection with your “inner art” after its temporary disruption. . .
Hey, I kind of like that. I will consider it. Thanks!
I really like the brushstrokes in the sky and water. For some reason, it makes me think of the passage of time. Time flows on, with or without us.
I think that’s a good way of putting it, Melanie.
On Sat, Mar 16, 2013 at 5:52 PM, Redtree Times
I really like the fact that you’ve put two docks into it. When I took my first tumble in ages at work last week and went into the water, having a dock around certainly was handy! (Yes, I’m fine.)
Seriously, it’s a beautiful example of how experience shapes perception. When I looked at this painting, those two docks jumped out at me as though you’d done them in neon colors. I usually “look large” at your paintings first and then explore the details. This time, those tiny details were right there, clamoring for attention. Interesting.
That’s interesting. I always wonder what the eye of others will first settle on in these larger, detailed pieces. My eyes tend to go the horizon but I know that everyone sees it differently. Perhaps your experience with dock have shaped your perception…