"Melancholic Whispers" - mixed media on aquabord, 24" x 18". Ready to frame, or can be leaned against a wall upon a shelf. Available on Artfinder.
I didn't mean to paint this one.
There was an underpainting, then shapes, then texture. Surely an abstract? I looked away to handle a situation. When I returned, there she was.
In truth, I am certain she was influenced by a series of events. Including the violent death of a large muscovy, hit by some careless driver and left in the road outside our door. His female companion stayed by him, waiting for him to wake up. It wasn't easy taking him away while she looked on. I apologized, sympathized, encouraged her to leave the road. I wondered if the driver would ever know how deeply that moment sank into my heart.
I've started reading a new book - another by Mark Nepo. Right away, his words fit the day.
What if my life ended right then and there, just like Mr. Muscovy? Have I truly lived? Will the lingering sweetness of the last piece of perfectly ripe watermelon I ever ate sustain me for all of eternity? Have a tasted so much of life that I am fully and completely satisfied?
It has been seven months since my dad passed away. As I am sure many of you may have experienced with your own parents and grandparents, I watched the man discover all the things he really wanted to do just as life was taking away his ability to actually do them.
Nepo advises us to "honor the truth of our experience and learn from those who've loved us." On a day which, on the surface, seemed full of sadness and reminders of mortality, there was the gift of this reminder - we can chose to live wholeheartedly right now, seize this day, this moment, and wring every drop of experience out of it.
The universe, in its odd sense of humor and synchronicity, brought up this song on my playlist in the studio. A melancholic whisper with a haunting melody.