Prairie Edge– November 1994
Oh, God said to Abraham, “Kill me a son”
Abe said, “Man, you must be puttin’ me on”
God said, “No” Abe say, “What?”
God say, “You can do what you want, Abe, but
The next time you see me comin’, you better run”
Well, Abe said, “Where d’you want this killin’ done?”
God said, “Out on Highway 61”
— Bob Dylan, Highway 61 Revisited (1965)
Another radiation morning so again a brief post. In my continuing series of looking back at some of my earlier work, I am sharing the smaller painting above, Prairie Edge. I guess there’s no need to describe it as small since all of my earliest work was fairly small. Coming in at about 4″X 8″ on paper, this was typical in size.
It is also typical in its composition. It is simply constructed with blocks of color above and below. One thing differentiating it from my other work was its lack of a narrow horizontal white line separating the sky and hills from the plains. I guess I compensated for this by leaving the road that same stark unpainted white.
The strong points of this painting, at least in my eyes, come in the color of the sky and in the ragged edge of the fields at the bottom. The sky is like a glorious bruise that has begun to recede, plum purple with hints of yellow faintly coming through.
Hurt and healing.
The story of survival in such remoteness.
And in life in general.
That ragged edge at the bottom is like fingers both reaching down to the earth as though they are seeking a firm hold out of the fear that the world’s spinning will fling them into that sky and out to me, beckoning to me to travel that bright road with the promise that the embrace these fields give to the road will be mine as well.
It’s an interesting dichotomy. The skies promising hurt and healing while the fields offer love and security.
Again, the story of our survival here on this third spinning stone from the sun.
Hey, I was able to get more in this than I thought. Let’s celebrate with a corresponding song.
I always thought that the Bob Dylan classic Highway 61 Revisited was about the northern section of the fabled road since it starts (or ends, depending on how you look at it) around Dylan’s birthplace and early stomping grounds of Duluth, Minnesota. However, the late, great Levon Helm linked the song while hosting a 1996 episode of the PBS series Great Drives to the southern reaches of as it heads towards its ending (or, again, its beginning) in New Orleans.
This song (and the album of the same name) has been a favorite for as long as I can remember. I don’t normally think of this song as being joyful, despite its rumbling pace but this all too short rendition from Levon is filled with joy.
Hurt and healing, folks…
Redtree Times 