On the Binary
pings
I didn't ask for this.
The intimacy of creating something from nothing.
It is so cold and wet, cold and wet. It is June and the solstice has passed. My body is confused. The heater is on in my studio.
I love the sound, the sound that is a different expression of wind, the rain soft, soft the moment it hits surface. I breathe the rain. it keeps coming, coming like the rising and falling of thoughts. On the couch fly dreams I ride with them. My heart rapid then calm rapid then calm, lost in so many daydreams, wishes, wants, needs, the painting is asking again for the twisting of the experience of life to be painted, depicted in movement, in the marks. I can see and feel it, I have to move my arms with it, I have to put the pencils to it or I will lose it. it’s coming from everywhere and nowhere and I never asked for it. I only feel compelled to move to let it move through me. I love being in it, and I wish this peace for all beings. I wish for the brakes to stop being pushed so much, all the filtering to stop, so that the life can move through with ease, the ungraspable can move through and out, of connections to be made over and over and over again…the ones that come through if you are paying attention. pay attention! they are everywhere, the word in the space, the sound at the passing moment of the thing that is just there on the side of the road, just there and the sound came through a song. am I authoring these, or are they affirmations? I see I hear I feel them and then they move through in the power of the mark making again, again. I close my eyes and can see it, the connections, the knowing. I want to be in this with you, not only with the canvas. it is a portal, a portal to the knowing. it is the grounding. it is alive. it keeps coming, the rain the rain. I am feeling the wet, I am breathing the wet, I am nature.