December Oak
oil on canvas 12" x 16"
"Like ice on a hot stove, a poem must ride it's own melting."
Robert Frost
"Time is holding it's breath for an instant and for an eternity.
That is what I'm after."
That is what I'm after."
Andrew Wyeth
One could substitute 'a painting' for 'a poem' here and not be far off the mark. Frost knew the fleeting sense of a moment passing by and the difficulty of staying withing the idea sparking the original act, of orchestrating all the tools at hand in one direction. The constant battle is to enter into the moment, remain focused on the original expressive intent, and discover time-less imagery as if by accident.
No small task but one that seems hypnotic in its persistent attraction.
I am never far from these fields,
buried as they are in my deep.
Their wind sounds find me
encased in my dreams, lost
in the darkest night's shadow,
slant light running loose in my sleeping eyes.
Wonderfully dramatic (poetic) light and shadow in your painting! Is the poem yours as well? Painterly and poetically lovely!
ReplyDeleteHi Dean!
ReplyDeleteVery nice oak and deep and vibrant poem!
I am just reading The Poetic of Space by Gaston Bachelard, you might know him already, but if not, he is a fantastic companion in the winter's night!
Tove #1