I keep circling round a project of painting cedars, remembering a single (I thought successful) ink drawing of them, done back in the 80s, and thinking surely I can do something with them again. The shapes and colors of cedars are unique - nothing else has the texture, or that multi-shade of green that seems to have maroon hidden inside it. Or blood. Which fits with the Cherokee legend that the powerful red fragrance of the cedar heartwood is a stain that dripped, long ago, from the decapitated head of an overly dangerous ancient sorcerer. Today was blustery and the cedars were even better in cloud darkened motion. Maybe I can settle on something in these images to paint!
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Spiral Drawing ~
Ping ping, the chisel hits
the stone, ringing something like
a flavor in my thought,
of the hickory flames, and the deep blue sky,
a sentinel crow
croaking to itself,
sun and shadow on my skin.
The rock chips fly, white dust
falls on the ground. I'm following
the round of a spiral's curve,
through substance older
than my kind,
well past the middle point in time.
Death, and birth, and all extremes
are distant, like a bell -
clangorous when close, melodic at a mile.
Beyond all hope now I am loved
as much as I desire, have glimpsed complete
the beauties of my dream,
and even touched them with my hand.
Art is called to show
all things; to turn a stone into a phonograph,
as though it mattered
deeply, in ten thousand years,
that at the instant of the strike
I loved you more than all my words describe.
There is no reason otherwise.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Shane calls this creature "The Shrine Guardian." When I first started carving it, the three knobs on its head made me think of The Knobs, as the hills in this part of Kentucky are properly called, and how my dad knew all of their names.
We made this for a commissioned moss garden we're working on. It will stand beside a Japanese Temple-style stone lantern. It's carved from sandstone.