Breath from beyondAcrylic and ink on paper, 2006
For Inspire Me Thursday's Breath.
My mother passed away last Friday. Whenever I go
back to look at her, I still expect her to start breathing
again any moment.
This won't happen, of course. If there were any breath,
it would be from beyond, as in the painting. Life,
colors and breathing are underneath the blackness.
For Inspire Me Thursday's Breath.
My mother passed away last Friday. Whenever I go
back to look at her, I still expect her to start breathing
again any moment.
This won't happen, of course. If there were any breath,
it would be from beyond, as in the painting. Life,
colors and breathing are underneath the blackness.
2 comments:
My condolences. When one's mother dies it seems unthinkable to be so left behind. I see reminders of my mother every time I pass near rhododendron bushes. It's as if my mother was watching through my eyes assessing whether the shrubs might need cutting back - she had a mania for trimming rhodos, keeping them in check, so she is never far away from me - this is rhododendron country.
I love what seems to be script in this painting, and a method which reminds me of decalcomania - the painting looks like a transcrition of a song fragment. Lovely! G
Heartfelt condolences, Leo.
You capture it so well when you say, "Life,colors and breathing are underneath the blackness."
Gem puts it so well too, one never dies, even when the body perishes. You too will see your mother is well alive, despite her physical absence.
Take care, fried. :)
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