From where I sit at my computer I can look out over the rest of the loft to the light flooding in from Church Street. I love the geography of domestic spaces: the islands of rugs, the demarcation between living and studio as though a border had been inscribed by the edge of the Turkish rug, the edifice of rocking chair, the piles of books and edge-on paintings, the furry bunny (on left) with its portrait hanging just west of itself...
That blue light is the same as in my dream of the catspider, who scrabbled down the middle window and landed on the reflective floor--a black furred creature that would inhabit my brain and paintings for decades to come...
Above is what my Buddha sees from his perch...Gods dance and snow bears tunnel to jeweled cities. Also rocking chairs await...
Beyond the lace curtains I could just make out the moving frieze of snow. On opening the fire escape door I fell out in to the snow globe world, as though I had reversed-hatched inward and out.
Meanwhile inside the green world of light falling down in the forest:
...all is snow, light, water and green--wonderful crazy/studio quiet.
From where I sit at my computer I can look out over the rest of the loft to the light flooding in from Church Street. I love the geography of domestic spaces: the islands of rugs, the demarcation between living and studio as though a border had been inscribed by the edge of the Turkish rug, the edifice of rocking chair, the piles of books and edge-on paintings, the furry bunny (on left) with its portrait hanging just west of itself...
