Lino cut print over pastel. The story goes: The bird fell in love with the whale the first time she saw him break through the ocean’s surface, sunlight dancing on his back. From high above, she sang to him, and deep below, he answered with a song as old as the tides.
She longed to dive, to join him in the rolling blue. He wished to rise, to fly beside her in the endless sky. But air and water would not trade places.
So each day, at dawn and dusk, they met at the edge of their worlds—she on the wind, he in the waves—singing a love song carried by the breeze and the tide, never together but never apart.
Warm and cool winds mixing and blowing over sand ridges. A memory from living on the edge of a desert in Western Australia. Sometimes, walking the early morning the air is still cool in the shade of the trees, but the moment you step out into the sun, it is already hot.
Often I am given to making marks on paper that reflect the objects I see coming towards me as I gaze out the front car window. I do this exercise as a passenger of course. The goal is not the end product, but the process of connecting what I see with motor control. The product is an indication of movement and energy. Give it a try!
Kierkegaard said we undersand life by looking back, but we must live life forward. On a trip to the Chicago Art Institute with a group of students, I penned the students behind me and then I penned the rapidly moving images I saw through the front window of the bus . I still do not understand life except that perhaps it is full of energy and art and love.
