I've been on the road for much of the last eleven days, and I go for three more starting tomorrow. This morning I'm feeling very emotional in a way that seems to need words, so I'm not drawing or painting yet this morning, other than my Morning Pages.
I'm listening to the soundtrack from the Miyazaki movie Spirited Away. It's an incredible movie, visually, and musically - animation taken to a level we seldom see in the West. It reminds me of when I started painting again.
When I began to paint again, after the first careful work with kites, I was trying watercolors for the first time. My first piece came out of wherever. I sensed that there was something important going on, something emotional. While I was painting it I was calling it A Summer's Day. It has kites, which had opened the door a crack the week before. I was over the moon with how open I finally was, and how well the painting was going. My inner artist seemed engaged. I had terrible brushes which made the work tough, and the paper was rumpling up badly, but none of that mattered. The place in the painting was from inside me, and that was a revelation. And I can't describe how it felt to be creating images again.
That evening, during dinner, I told everyone how it was going. For the first time in over a decade I was painting again. Music was playing in the background, on our CD mixer. Daughter had slipped in her new soundtrack to the Miyazaki film. I'd not heard any of the pieces since seeing the movie, and had never looked at the soundtrack. One gentle, lovely number started and I turned, enchanted, to daughter and said, "What is this?" She said it was called One Summer's Day. I began to weep uncontrollably. Everyone was alarmed until I explained.
I'm weeping again now, recalling it. That's what kind of day it is.
>>>> Appendix de Grenouille #39 <<<< Oui, c'est moi in that Summer Day painting above. Two times. Etienne is realizing this morning that part of his dream for painting is contained still in this work - he wishes to return to the way this was done. He must dream again like this, and paint like a little child. It is his deepest wish. It is why he so admires the paintings of Jane Filer and Hundertwasser. The first time I am in this painting is tres grande, oui I am an entire hilltop. Voila, my broad green back bears trees and a road. Click the image to see it better. I found this amusing, but it also began my secret life in the mind and heart of an artist. It began my life. Prior I had been a knick knack.
The second appearance is tres petite, smaller than the fly before me. Etienne insists this is a cicada, une cigale, as we say it. I cannot believe they are so grande, regardless of the enormous racket they create here in Caroline. So I think this portrait of moi is the size of a bean, beside that petite fly. Perhaps we are having a conversation. Perhaps we are more of the Peaceable Kingdom which Steve loves to create - leon lying quietly with the lamb, grenouille discussing the lovely weather with the fly...