My family was invited to a beautiful winter solstice and 50th birthday celebration last night. This labyrinth of luminaria and the loving people gathered to celebrate helps to situate the winter darkness.
Who am I kidding with that last post? The moment I clicked "publish" I could hear myself challenging others to take responsibility for not just the bad stuff in their lives but the GOOD as well. Indeed it was I who made the glorious painting moment happen; I created the studio space, bought the paint, set up the taboret. Even I bought that lime (on a late night grocery run for holiday party muffin ingredients I specifically made for the produce isle determined to hook up with a gorgeous something). My delicious studio moment was no mystery but instead the direct result of intention and perseverance and I accept full credit.
And suddenly there I am, in the sun, painting, listening to Luciano Pavorotti and Joan Sutherland sing La Traviata while the most beautiful lime in the history of the world sits patiently for me. Not perseverating, not fretting, not baking for Holiday parties, not fixing things or worrying or running errands just lost in paint: What color is that reflection? At what moment does the lime appear darker than the background? At what moment does it become brighter? Is there an inbetween? What is the color of the penumbra, what is happening where shadow stops and light begins? Such glorious questions. The paint so satisfyingluy sensuous. I'm not sure how I got there and I'm not sure when I'll be back but thank you.