Here's a new little painting from the Elemental Studios.
It's all about the flow of the water element and the life contained within.
(*sold)
Here's a new little painting from the Elemental Studios.
It's all about the flow of the water element and the life contained within.
(*sold)
Watching the baby birds learning how to fly is quite heart-warming. Using the protective lilac shrubs as their playground, the youngsters flap furiously from branch to branch, all clumsy and feather-pointy, chirping madly the whole time.
A little painting before I start the day...
It's always good to have a feather collection for instant inspiration.
When you see water in the desert, it is truly like a mirage. The juxtaposition between so much flat sand and rock and this rushing course of water makes the mind do a double-take. From where does it begin its journey? Where is it going? Its energetic motion is so apparent in a landscape that is full of earth and rock as far as the eye can see. Sometimes the water is emerald, sometimes, aqua, and sometimes it is somewhere in-between, as turquoise as that lovely stone indigenous to the area.
There is an extremely wondrous canyon near Page, Arizona, where the walls have been frozen into undulations of the passing waters.
The canyon is below ground, not in front of you. When you get out of the car, there is nothing but a desert plain of flat rock, blowing sand and tumbleweeds. To approach the canyon, you walk along the surface of the desert and then before you, you see a crack in the ground about as wide as your foot that fans out into a V shape. You step in, one foot directly in front of the other. You descend, step by step and your body, as seen from a viewer on the ground, is slowly swallowed up by the Earth. It is as though you are walking from a beach straight into the Ocean. The Earth closes over your head and you are under the ground, entering a world of gold and russet tones.
It is a bizarre feeling to walk where the waters have walked and to see the essence of the rushing waters in the sandstone walls themselves, carved into waves, swirls, and eddies. It is like one of those black and white block prints, where you aren't sure you are looking at the woman or the bird. Am I looking at the sandstone swirls or where the water was swirling? The sandstone looks like a wave but it isn't but it was made by the waters, so perhaps it is?
The Navajo name for Upper Antelope Canyon is Tse' bighanilini, which means "the place where water runs through rocks." It is a very sacred place and it is out of respect to have a Navajo guide to take you in.
Spring has been busy here while I was away. It has been busy for some time actually, pushing up shoots in the cold earth, bringing migrations of birds in the winds and flooding the banks of the local creeks.
The robins have been hopping about for some weeks now and it is not unusual to find sixty or so birds hanging out together, covering the lawns and trees before they separate into their own territories that they will defend vigorously with the power of song, closing the end of day with their invisible musical fences.
For certain people and places, robins are symbols of new beginnings as they come with the spring, a time of growth, even when clouds, (as grey as the robin's back) shower cold rain on the ground. Their energetic movement reminds you to call upon their energy if you are feeling the cold spring blahs and their warm orange vest reminds you to visualize the rays of the sun and the days getting longer.
Robin Medicine invites you to see clearly. Their white ring around the eye emphasizes this trait, as they run with their characteristic quick gait across the lawn. Suddenly they stop, and look alertly before proceeding once again. They are hunting by clear sight and their medicine invites you to do the same.
Robin Medicine: New beginnings and growth brought with the clarity of seeing clearly.
I am back from two weeks of amethyst canyons and red sands, snow storms and sun burns, ravens and coyotes, lizards and cactus = Utah and Arizona.
Right now it is all a wonderful jumble of images in my head, of colour fragments and textures.
A few days ago we had a lovely snowfall here. Lovely, if you didn't have to work or drive in it. Lovely, if you could trudge along in the snow and head for the forest to see the updraft and swirls playing against the dark greens and burnt siennas of the woods.
The woods near me are an afterthought, an overgrown quarry left to its own devices. It's very close to the main highway and as such, the din of the traffic is incessant. On snowy days, however, the noise is muffled and not as intrusive.
It is a small wood, but interesting and quite strong in its own energy. Sitting and tapping into this energy is always restorative. Once, while sitting quietly, I watched a white coyote make its way through the woods. I was sitting higher up and could watch his progress. He stopped once, to figure out where I was as he had picked up my scent. I cleared my throat to let him see me. That startled him no end, to find me sitting ten feet from him amongst the ferns. He took off in a blur.
This little painting will be developed into something bigger in oil and a little more subdued with greys and greens.
We are holding another Open House in February, so if you are in the neighbourhood, come by and see what the artists have been up to since November.