. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .On a lighter note... we bought our old lake house! It's ours again, after a twenty year absence. We can hardly wait to bring in the tree people to selectively clear our view of the lake. I remember standing with my mother on the deck one evening. We'd been talking about my lack of interest in fine jewelry and such... don't know how it came up, but I remember showing her the sparkles from the moonlight on the lake and saying that those were my diamonds and they couldn't be matched. Well, anyway... we think we'll have fun fixing it up, should be a good investment if the University stays open and the lake doesn't go dry. This will make a terrific second home and give us a lot of projects to keep busy (and fit) with. I think I'll designate the little studio there to watercolor. That's a large and special part of my past as well.
August 11, 2006
Some Things Never Change...
I was born to labor over my work. No way can I create a short cut, it always looks unfinished. How I long for the simple gestural line that says it all... the single stroke that demands no more. No idea why I must go over and over the same space until it resonates assuredness, but might as well face the fact that it will always be so. Thought I was on to a simple method of expressing myself with the ink and collage simplicity of a Zen composition, but it just isn't to be. There will be layers involved, glazes, gels, infusions of marks and accidentals... until it begins to stand on it's own and begs to be left alone. So be it. This image represents one of 24 sections of a w-i-p. The base is a textured canvas with a final coat of a soft orange. Then 24 squares of reversed ochre bokusho marks, then a layer of ricepaper... which made everything way too subtle so now I've added these little reverse ink squares. Something's still missing, but I'm really enjoying the newest addition.