Woman in Red and Blue, 21cm x 29cm, 8" x 11.5", 2012, Moleskine folio Sketchbook, mixed media.
You might guess, I am working on studies for a self portrait painting. Still haven't achieved a good likeness (according to my beloved children), 'but,' they say, they 'like them anyhow.'
I layered this with different types of inks, pens, paints, scratchings, and so on. You might be able to see the detail if it opens in full screen and gives you an option to view at original size.
Let's hope so.
:)
While the darker image is from a scanner, this is closer to what the painting looks like in bright natural daylight (it's an earlier version, too).
Pierre-Marie CŒDES' Concerto n°9 opens with a trumpet call. A swan is glides over the still water of the river. It is dawn. The sun rises with strings and drums. Such tension in the music, coiled, ready to open, and when the piano begins, it does. We are flowing in a dance of water birds. The water is a thick glass floor and when a plummet is thrown, it dives down and down. There is no end to the depth of this music.
We are brought back to the fingers, nimble playing, the breath, even clear notes. The swans lift out of the water, drops of water falling from their wings, angels rising into the brightening sky.
Flutes, reeds flowing to the music. Those on the banks witnessing the ballet of birds in the water, still, awe.
The Allegreto is restrained and draws its power from its restraint.
There is such joy in the melody. The piano sings, lightly across the keys, deeply in the bass notes.
Trills, lightly, lightly, the swans have become ballet dancers with wings. They are sweeping around and around.
Newness arises with the sunrise, the day opens with Pierre-Marie's Concerto N°9. He is ever gentle with us, inspiring us to awake and swim with the day, to sing and dance with the joy of living deep in our hearts.
By Andante, the river flows through plains and vast open spaces. We are in a Surreal land where fairytales turn into operas, where passion fills the landscape. There is magic as the river flows. The dancers have deepened their dance of life to include lonelinesses, moments of quiet communion with what is divine, and all the while distant trumpets remind us of the strength of our spirits. The piano, as ever, sings its notes, carrying the central voice of the Concerto.
In our metaphor of river music, the piano carries us through rapids, drops, over rocks, winds through forests, allowing nature in all its beauty to be seen.
Sometimes we are flying over the river, watching our lives progress, watching the widening of our experience as we move slowly towards the ineffable.
Lovers dance quietly in the peaceful but steady dream that this symphonic concerto opens.
Sometimes there is drama, yes, moments, but the overall flow of joy rushes on.
A catchy jazzy rhythm, with rich Classical undertones.
By the end of Andante, the breadth of Pierre-Marie Coedes vision becomes evident.
Dancers like swans fill our imagination.
Allegro begins with almost a jazz beat, distant flamenco, under a sweet, encompassing blend of instruments. The day is steadily revolving with the sun in trills, moments of flight, laughter, pain, togetherness, the echo of all creation communing.
Our ballet dancers are almost doing a slow tango, their wings open behind them as they swirl, bend, bow.
We are nearing the ocean, a regal entry into oneness. All the levels are echoing, singing, trills, notes, repetitions, a choral of complex patterns and pastel overlays, the harsh lines only rise from the depths, pulling the movement together so that it ends with a flourish of delicate piano notes, everything is shimmering, the pulse of life is here, its stunning gift.
From my Moleskine Project today:
