I ask you directly because your silence takes me to the edge and I drown in deep water. What do you fear? You are free as a line that escapes from the pen. We made magic for a time. Our colours sang loudly. Our words whispered softly. Does your heart miss one tiny beat?
Nothing is too deep, too difficult, too impenetrable. Well that’s what I’m telling myself as I apply for the artists’ visa in France.
Thanks for the photo Tia Fereti
‘There is no going back. The collaboration between artist and muse began in a time when there was only the artist. She needed a muse and searched along the river. The water sang as it flowed over rocks. Create. She walked the mountain and talked to the trees. Create they whispered. She knew there was only one path. It began in the beginning of time and stretched to her bones.’
An appreciation for geokalpataru who creates beautiful word pictures and illustrations. Thanks geo, for your insights and inspiration. https://geokalpataru.wordpress.com/
The Divine Tree, oil on canvas 60×60 cm, copyright Jeni McMillan
Feedback appreciated on whether anyone can see both images. I have added the smaller image into the text as it seems that there is a problem with the one at the top of my page.
tender brush with earth
focus contracts to present
living breathing Now
Portals and passages says the woman on my screen.
I am listening to a talk on depression and spirituality… just because. I listen as I sit on my bed, knowing that the words are true but find it hard to budge myself from a dark internal process that has sucked up a few days of my life. It appears that depression causes atrophy in the cortex. Now that sounds pretty grim. Here I am ruminating in my own shit while simultaneously creating more of the fetid mess. I know I’m feeling crap but really, is it that bad? I hear the woman say that there is hope, even though the word has temporarily slipped from my vocabulary. I guess that means yes. But her talk is compelling so I lean toward the dulcet tones. Her next words resonate in my core. When spirituality is embraced, the cortex grows thick as tree. If depression is on one side of a door then spirituality is on the other.
Imagine the door as a metaphor for creativity. On one side of the creative process there is doubt, dislocation and damnation. But once the handle turns and the portal is open, there is another world… παράδεισος.
Photo: Jeni McMillan