A plane has crash landed in the Hudson. Everyone has been rescued. The air is very cold and the water is numbing. Here, away from winter inside the studio, I dash from side to side of the canvas, marking possible events of reflection and chaotic, illuminated forest floor and moss.
The painting is at the messy point of ideas all flung out and jumbled together but not properly introduced. We shall see who meets whom and what dances ensue.
1 comment:
I've been dreaming about warm seas here, white sand beaches.
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