Digital painting made on ProCreate app for IPhone. November 11, 2016.
Dark days here in California.
Days of mourning, but also poetry, catharsis, resolve for Resistance.
The Sun broke through the clouds today.
Words, thoughts, and memories flowed and something beautiful is emerging from the summer blush, the gentle nights, the dawns of Bahia de Los Angeles down in the peninsula.
The blood and ink spilled on the battlegrounds of a war lost before it began.
Red like the heart, yellow like the fire, orange as the light.
Some days all of this will make sense. The humbleness of things not going your way, not going as predicted.
For now huddle with your familiars, write manifestos, memorize lines of poetry
To leave as flowers as you bid your adieu.
In the end nothing mattered, not eloquence, preparedness, not even expertise.
It boiled down, as it always boils
In love, in war, in politics.
These scars will become constellations.
I recently switched to an IPhone.
I was always an Android/PC person, but did it all for the camera (and the IPhone 7 larger screen, which brings it closer to a tablet). Today after some research I downloaded ProCreate, a painting and layering app and Tayasui Sketching, a drawing and watercolor app. I’m looking forward to exploring them with my Sensu brush. The layers aspect of ProCreate pushes this app beyond what I was used to with Paint Commander, my Android painting app. If I don’t sound as my usually excited self is because I’m still numb.
The spontaneous construct above was an experiment with ProCreate inspired by Rothko, some photographs I took in September in Baja California, the recent elections and the high-strung feeling running through social media- especially related to some alarming episodes of intolerance already happening.
I guess things have to fall apart before they are made anew, and I guess the heart has to break in a myriad of pieces to become a mosaic, a kaleidoscope. This was the autumn of earthquake faults and fractures, of buildings and people.
There is a Japanese custom of repairing broken antique vases with gold, making the wound not only visible, but the whole more precious for having being shattered.
I was dead then alive. Weeping then laughing. The power of love came into me and I became fierce like a lion then … then tender like the evening star.
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