this morning i started with an unfinished early collage
sitting in on a closet shelf. i find knowing i will paint a painting a day
is a soothing thought. i know that i will spend
whatever time it takes to discover what painting
will emerge. there is no conflict, only a focus and
willingness to be with the process.
after more paper and glue
and then completed.
according to the authors of creative collage techniques,
collage was first used about 200 bc after paper was invented
in China. but it wasn't until the 10th century in japan that it became
widely used by calligraphers to accompany their poems.
i like thinking that perhaps some of my ancestors where early
collage artists and poets.
a poem by hermann hesse
translated by robert bly
sometimes, when a bird cries out,
or the wind sweeps through a tree,
or a dog howls in a far off farm,
i hold still and listen a long time.
my soul turns and goes back to the place
where, a thousand forgotten years ago,
the bird and the blowing wing
were like me, and were my brothers.
my soul turns into a tree,
and an animal, and a cloud bank.
then changed and odd, it comes home
and asks me questions.
what should i reply?
sunset from redondo beach looking at palos verdes where i live