A woman singing arias on a high platform on a truck parked on a cold and windy November day. Her voice flowing with the gusts keeps becoming obscure, becoming wind. Will she fly turning through the air like a Chagall angel, lift and float in the lightness of being?
You haunt me. Is it that we fly together where it mingles, rebounding off each other, an undulating pattern of togetherness that's different to the separateness that's ongoing?
Who are you as the hours unfold across the tableau of time? When do you come bounding from that sky of vivid pastel colours?
This coalesquing of ours in various patterns and never stopping and always moving and reconfiguring, our agile dance across the expanse.
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
Showing posts with label Chagall. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chagall. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
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Woman with Flowers 7.1
(7th sketch in series, first iteration of this one) Woman with Flowers Flowers, props upholding the woman. The flowers, fragrant, imaginar...
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The Buddha says: “ You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself .” The path is uncertain. Uncertainty is the guiding for...
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What if relationships are the primary ordering principle? What if the way relationships are ordered clarify, explain, and instruct us on th...
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"I hope you are all creating every day according to the inner map you were born with. I know it sometimes seems that map is written in ...