Monday, December 26, 2011
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Knowing that it knows,
The light of wisdom is clear and void and timeless and has no objects
Not knowing that it does not know,
The light of nature is dark and void and timeless and has no subject.
Both reach for us; from above and from below: through the clarity of the sentience of our minds and also through the dark processes of our body.
The mind of an angel and the mind of a stone.
Lumen Sapientiae & Lumen Naturae
Sunday, November 27, 2011
|Violent Beauty / 24" x 40" / acrylic & mixed media on canvas / 2011|
I would be consumed in that overwhelming existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we are still just able to endure,
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
When her doctor took her bandages off and led her into the garden, the girl who was no longer blind saw "the tree with the lights in it." It was for this tree I searched through the peach orchards of summer, in the forests of fall and down winter and spring for years. Then one day I was walking along Tinker Creek thinking of nothing at all and I saw the tree with the lights in it. I saw the backyard cedar where the mourning doves roost charged and transfigured, each cell bursting with flame. I stood on the grass with the lights in it, grass that was wholly on fire, utterly focused and utterly dreamed. It was less like seeing than like being for the first time seen, knocked breathless by a powerful glance. The flood of fire abated, but I'm still spending the power. Gradually the lights went out in the cedar, the colors died, the cells unflamed and disappeared. I was still ringing. I had been my whole life a bell, and never knew it until at that moment I was lifted and struck. I have since only very rarely seen the tree with the lights in it. The vision comes and goes, mostly goes, but I live for it, for the moment when the mountains open and a new light roars in spate through the crack, and the mountains slam. ~Annie Dillard "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek"
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Friday, October 14, 2011
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
Sunday, July 31, 2011
after a night of rain.
I dip my cupped hands. I drink
a long time. It tastes
like stone, leaves, fire. It falls cold
into my body, waking the bones. I hear them
deep inside me, whispering
oh what is that beautiful thing
that just happened?
|Rocks and Forest Pool 24" x 30" acrylic on canvas|
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
|48" x 60" acrylic on panel board|
Sunday, June 26, 2011
the roots on, let them
And the dirt
just to make clear
where they come from.
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