Comforter – At the West End Gallery
But there is a greater comfort in the substance of silence than in the answer to a question. Eternity is in the present. Eternity is in the palm of the hand. Eternity is a seed of fire, whose sudden roots break barriers that keep my heart from being an abyss.
The things of Time are in connivance with eternity…
― Thomas Merton, “Fire Watch, July 4, 1952”
The painting above is titled Comforter and is part of my current show at the West End Gallery in Corning. The title feels self-evident in the painting with its shades of blue that are underlaid with layers of magenta that give it a warmth that I find comforting. The warm light of the moon also has a calming effect and the patchwork effect of the fields speaks directly of a quilt or comforter.
As I said, the title speaks for itself.
Merton’s passage adds a layer of spiritual comfort to this piece. It comes from an epilogue for his book The Sign of Jonas and details one of his first duties as a novice monk performing a fire watch. It entailed walking through the monastery in the early hours of the morning making sure that all was well, that no accidental fires or water leaks were taking place. It was a task filled with silence and vigilance but also one that offered comfort in the knowledge that all was well.
And that seems to fit with this small painting. The Red Tree seems to be overlooking all while pondering its own existence, its own purpose. And in doing this silent duty, it finds comfort.
Another passage from Merton’s essay seems applicable as well:
And now my whole being breathes the wind which blows through the belfry, and my hand is on the door through which I see the heavens. The door swings out upon a vast sea of darkness and of prayer. Will it come like this, the moment of my death? Will You open a door upon the great forest and set my feet upon a ladder under the moon, and take me out among the stars?
Perhaps the Red Tree is looking for that ladder under the moon.
I need to think on that a bit more. In the comfort of silence.
Redtree Times 