And here she is. I worked very hard to balance the darkness of war, which is not beautiful, with the light from the left and the beauty (and fearsomeness at the same time) of Nature and the jungle. There is also considerable anger in this piece, as is evident in the sharpness, the angles. There is a lot going on in this piece, as you can also see, in the somewhat Art Deco, languid work to the right, if you CAN see that work. bah.
Also, the detail on the marshy area around the sunset is kind of like watercolor and drippy, a bit sympathetic, sympa, what am I trying to say? sensitive. It’s hard for you to see that.
There are parts that are left raw, as they were originally painted, and parts that are very detailed.
Now, as I believe I said before, the upper left red globe symbolizes for me all the bloodshed in the war, across the board. One red blood cell it is for me. Massive, and singular.
You know, I’ve often, even since I was little, found it hard to imagine a lot of people dead. You know, one person, one special person gone is a lot to conceive of in your heart. Ten people is hard, even. Three people. As many as you can count on one hand, or two hands, that is SO many. So … it is so hard to conceive of the loss of war. Imagine losing a buddy in your troop, right, if that’s the word even, I don’t know. The shock alone of the loss, and then how he was lost, if you witnessed it, and then having to keep going on, if you do.
But then, over and over and over, and back home, the families, the losses of the families. I know we felt the losses at home and we didn’t even lose anyone in our family but were scared to death our family members would have to go, right? Or would come back, not the same.
And imagine from the civilian perspective over there, as I used to imagine from the children my age, their perspective, the bombings and the burning of the villages eventually, becoming a refugee, or worse, right, worse?
or from the Viet-Kong perspective? I don’t know if it’s like from the African child soldiers who are forced to fight and do such horrible things, brainwashed or worse? I have no idea what their lives were like. sigh
i have no idea, ultimately
but i kind of do, really
I look at my hands, and I count on my fingers and think, roughly 52,000 or 58,000 US soldiers lost and in the millions on the Viet-Namese civilians lost? Lost, not like lost and found but GONE forever.
Now I’m not saying anything about the war itself, like whether we should have gotten involved or anything. Because that at this point is so … overwrought. I am so very glad we got out. I was and always will be a flower child, okay? I am not a communist and was never for the Viet Kong. Never. I also don’t agree with some of the lines, boundaries, the US crossed to try to win that crazy freaking war, either. It was insane. It was not winnable.
We had to just let it go, and thankfully, very thankfully, in my mind, we did.
I guess I just did say something about the Viet-Nam War after all.
But my point is … my art is more about … what happened because of it … in the midst of it. Because that’s where parts of me still are.
I want the violence to stop. Somehow, ultimately, everywhere. The seed to remain still and untouched, at rest. The guns to sound no more.
I am an idealist, of course. I don’t know how I got that way, except that it hurts so much I want it to stop. I don’t accept that it is a fact of life, although war has been going on somewhere on the globe my whole life, and I know from studying International Relations that it has been going on for a very long time.
I also know that there have been peaceful societies and warring societies.
Greed and … well, you know the rest.
I believe we have and can reach a point, as a world, where, somehow, we can stop. Just stop. The violence. Be aware of it and see the patterns in ourselves as individuals and as societies and get professional guidance and replace violent loops with healthy, peaceful patterns.
I have done this in myself or I wouldn’t talk.
Just a thought on a sunny day.
So very achey yesterday and today.
My left thumb joint into the hand, inexplicably ACHES. ? resistant to massage and everything. Hmm? And above and below the left elbow. I look at these areas and there is no redness, no inflammation. That I can see. But it hurts like hell.
I laugh now. That’s the traveling pain of Fibromyalgia.
Yesterday was also my lower back, like I had done “something” to it. So I rested an awful lot and put moist heat packs all over. But I was none too happy about it. It was hard to get to a restful place in my soul.
Some days are just like that, I guess. Hmm.
We did make a nice (tasting) Jungle Curry from the Thai cookbook, with which we are going to try cooking our weekly meals this week, me veggie and Jason chicken — with brown rice. Yum. You wouldn’t believe how MANY peppers are in there. For real. Wow.
Tomorrow morning early (for me) I go and retrieve the Viet-Nam Jungle paintings, all ten of them from the Bohrer Park Activity Center. I have a friend who may want to have one or so of them in her home now, so good timing! yay!
Well, now my right thumb is hurting a ton, so I better stop typing for the time being.
Good to chat, though. Hope you are all well, and that it is sunny, somewhere, where you are, if not on the outside, on the inside. 🙂 Namaste.