Back to Painting Again

It's been a long time coming but I've finally gotten past some obstacles standing in the way of finishing some recent paintings.
When there is no inspiration or time there is little I can do to get the process started again.

When the inspiration becomes clear it is a matter of showing up. The brushes and the colors seem to find their place, I am more like a vessel for the energy to come through into the painting.

I just finished probably my last commission, only because it is really hard to paint on command. I've said that many times and the great thing about a commission is that it causes an artist to use discipline to stay on course.

Teaching painting was another way for me to practice discipline when I was forced to continue when the impetus was weak. You have to work through some of the moments when the image is a bit less clear.

This is another reason why I paint multiple paintings at the same time, I'm not always in the mood or place to do a particular painting.

I've also started doing quick sketches in pastel which is allowing me to be creative without the commitment of a full painting. I have been sketching after every drive in the country and it is starting to become a habit and a way of studying from nature. I love the immediacy of the medium.

I am always at my best when I am painting. It is not something I ever want to say I used to do. It is a part of my life and big part of my future. This is just a preview to the full series that is well on its way.

Child of Ten: Introduction to a series of poems old and new.

The same thin space

The deep depression

Beneath the oaks

Death as a metaphor

In the grip of steel boxes

A life time of words

Bursting forth like seeds

In a garden

Walk

Alone in the morning

Listening to the clouds

Conspiring

What will this day become

Awakening

With the same sense of urgency

The same sense of hush

The Awe of Septembers’ closing ground

The gaping wound that never heals

It just grows deeper

And the soil sinks down

Thirty years now

That space of life

That sculpted mine

Every broad stroke

Every thin line

A reflection in words

He spoke

With a whispered voice

A child of ten

Speaks even now

Thousands of words

A tapestry of lines

And shapes

And I have a child

That carries my name

And he will share his words

And  a voice

An echoe in still pond

And he will be my words

My eyes

Long after I’m gone…..

copyright 2017 Artbygordon