Long
single stem raindrops seem shaft-like descending.
From
a distance, it is a gray sketchbook of work as shading curtains filling the
sight. Giving this visual embrace a backdrop feel, yet stalking the foreground
by downward apparitional action. Enveloping but not hurried. This sketch work,
caught in slow time, is not like the familiar gray rain, half-toning at any
distance. It is reed-like, long-stemming to greet my perpendicular glances, almost as if face to face, intimately begging
my skin to reach out and touch this declaration. In my fantasy, it is a species
of elongated tubulars, with samurai intent, stampeding en masse down the
vertical, but meeting up with earth as if long-time lovers rushing
to their carnal mates. Into the earth as lovers’ arms these liquid mates
disappear. I am stunned as a bystander, initially seeing this as if this were
rain, yet
these straight grays are precise in animated devotional migration. In slow time,
my slow time, is to relish the moment, saver the romance while reflecting,
almost eavesdropping, upon this view . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment