Monday, August 04, 2008
How I love to paint rocks. I did this this afternoon as I listened to more of "The Memory Keeper's Daughter"on DVD. I took several of this kind of picture when Thelma and I went to Schoodic Point a couple of years ago. It was a wonderful day. I know my memory of it contributed to the way I painted it, a little wistfully, a combination of power and delicacy. The one figure, awed by the spectacle, made tiny by the grandeur, the seagulls going about their business. It's a misty day, though the day we went there it was actually very sunny.
I felt quite free to interpret this because I had to. I've run out of colored ink, so had to print the photo in black and white. I had to use my memory and my own interpretation. It suprised me that I was able to do it, and in fact, I think it is probably better than otherwise. I know Thelma will see this, and I think she will like it. It is her place, and I never go there, or even think about it, without thinking of her. I loved the place before I met her, but now the two are intertwined, inseperable. Because of that, it is a magic place, where everything is wonderful, where I feel love and loved with every cell of my body.
I am so full of memories these days. I'm consumed by the past.