Friday, February 9, 2018

I am Not Thinking about Spring

Winter: I'm trying not to wish the time away! Hang in there Rob! It's still cold, icy, snowy (rainy!) and unpredictable. Spring is not "around the corner." Or is it?
Dawn arrives earlier each day and the birds seem to think they should chorus, greet and comment upon any additional crumbs of sunlight.

The amaryllis on my table seems to have gotten a mysterious summons and it races upward, a green exclamation mark. The trucks have left Yawkey Way, okay, why not entertain thoughts of Spring? Because! Because… making art is a way of stopping time. Art is a way of memorializing precious moments of experience, synapse to synapse which will soon flicker out like a streetlamp at dawn.

I need the darkness and stasis of Winter. I need the fiction that the world decelerates, stalls and hovers, peaceful and static before starting to pivot. Is Time punctuated? Is Time human? The grains of sand are mute on this subject. I see the day and the night but I live for the grayness when I can pretend to be still.

Oak Tree
02-02-2018
charcoal, ink
Pine Trees
02-04-2018
charcoal, ink
The Island
02-03-2018
charcoal, ink
Ice covered river
02-07-2018
ink
Hooded Merganser
02-09-2018
charcoal, ink

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