Softly, You Whisper
I was sitting on the steps in the April sun, following the breeze through a field of yellow, pink and white wildflowers. Or was I dreaming of a faraway sea? Wherever I am, softly, you whisper.
Inspiration is divine. A gift to cherish and not squander. It materializes like a cloud passing vaporous on an ocean horizon. Soon to disappear if not seized. A lifetime of painting proved this true.
This life of art has been a long journey of learning. More, it has been a pathway of the heart.
The seed of my art sowed in the swamps and sea of my native Florida. It sprouted when I was 17, on the edge of homelessness, traveling around the country in a 1969 Chevy van. It germinated in the February snows of Wyoming hills, misty California valley mornings, and flaming Nevada desert sunsets. Restless nights, tossing under endless stars. And later it deepened in days of terror and detox. In midlife it flourished in smoky Appalachian mountains, southern blue skies, and my children’s laughter. Building a home, a business, a family, accumulation and many deaths and divorce. Then the passing of all these things until Maine summers and a wealth of dear friends rejuvenated my soul. People ask, how do you make art? A life makes art.
Long ago, tangible things like materials, technique and subject informed my paintings. Now I explore ephemeral frontiers of concepts. How do you paint Gratitude, Respect and Reverence? How do you transform paint into Love?
The sun has carved scars on my body, and the wind has lined my eyes, but age has not dimmed desire.
Reach deep, my creative friend. Put away your screens and worldly things. The fire is growing hotter, and the ice is melting. Birds are falling from the sky.
Humanity is on the line, yet goodness will prevail. Inspiration awaits in flowers and sunlight, on the shores of beauty and silence.
I have not been the best, but I pray I will be better. I stand on the shore with the One, listening…
Softly, You whisper.