When I was little I was always in the clouds, studying the forms and shapes, colors, angles, light, signals from God, right? I mean, right? Surely if there were communications from Heaven that’s where they would come from. Drove people crazy in the car, back and forth. Oh well. We could barely see the sunsets through the back of the house sometimes because of all the trees, alas, we loved the trees, right? but some sunsets were orange and red and gold and spectacular. So it was a clear sign that this was BEAUTY.
For my second painting, I mean, sure, flowers were beautiful, but clouds, well, surely I had to start there. So I did. There are several cloud paintings, actually, in my archive. I am grateful that I am able to come anywhere close to transmitting any beauty similar to what I have seen in my life in the skies. The time I have spent studying the clouds has given me much respite from a lot of painful time, has given me hope when I had none on Earth, believe me. I would look up to the sky and see something enormously beautiful, still today, I do. Always inspiring, beyond the squares and power lines.
For this painting I didn’t have a plan, either. Didn’t know I was going to paint a cloud. I painted transparent peach first. Mmmm. I liked that. Then blue. Yes. It reminded me of the sky. I entered a dream state then. a few more patches and then I was scared and I turned to white to mix. Then it happened. The mixing. Ahhh. It had happened a bit in Blues but not so much because I was so intent on blue, pain, not letting so much white get in, you know. But now, it started looking like clouds, and I went to town. It made sense, and I went with. I could hardly wait for the next three nights to get home to paint at night after work.
It couldn’t be too bright, though, because of the pain, so black and grey were mixed in, back and forth, and I realized the delicacy of the paper. Realized the value of letting the paint dry and detailing with white and pencil later. Wow.
I could scarcely believe what I had done, similar to some of the poems I had channeled at that time. Like they hadn’t come from me, but from the great unconscious, the collective, the Jungian beyond.
I carefully put the paintings, Blues and Cloud in a folder, when dry, and took them that Friday to work with me and shyly showed them to my colleagues. Are they any good? I asked. That was the beginning of my painting vocation, such as it is. No longer a hobby, some sort of spark, some kind of fire had started inside of me.
99.1 fever … so many lovely birthday wishes … thank you all! but I’m back to bed now! a cold or something … must rest me!! 🙂