We are not separated from spirit, we are in it.
—Plotinus
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I call this new painting, a 20″ by 16″ canvas, Light Emanation. Emanation is a word that is defined in one sense as an abstract but perceptible thing that issues or originates from a source. It’s a term that the 3rd century philosopher Plotinus used to describe the manner in which all matter is descended from the One, the transcendent and formless force that has always been and will always be. We see its emanation– its reflection– in things we associate with terms such as Good and Beauty.
I can’t fully explain the concept of Plotinus’ philosophy here. I honestly don’t fully understand it myself.
But the idea that we are all somehow comprised and descended from light has long been an idea that has lived within me. We react to light and the colors that come from it in ways that go beyond this world, in ways that somehow link us to something we feel is greater than ourselves. Perhaps the One to which Plotinus alludes.
As it is with so many things, I don’t know for sure. I only know that those rare moments in my life that have felt transcendent have always been associated with a mysterious quality of light, one that satisfies and comforts me in a way in which I didn’t even realize I was in need.
I see that feeling of oneness with the light in this painting. It has a mysterious comfort in it that reminds me of my own moments.
And that is all I ask of it…
Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.
Say what you mean and act how you feel,
Today we are searching for things in nature that are hidden behind the veil of appearance… We look for and paint this inner, spiritual side of nature.
The early morning has gold in its mouth.
I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.
Man can learn nothing except by going from the known to the unknown.
Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.
There is delight in singing, though none hear beside the singer. 