The Past
by Kay Ryan
Sometimes there's
suddenly no way
to get from
one part to
another, as though
the past were
a frozen lake
breaking up. But
not from the
top; not because
it's warmer
up here; it's not.
But from underneath
for some reason --
perhaps some heat
trapped on its own
for so long it's
developed seasons.
I'm taking an awesome workshop with Misty Mawn combining paint, poetry, pastels, sculpting... and that's just in the first week! *sigh* This piece is done with charcoal, pastels and acrylic. I'm having fun experimenting with everything. No expectations when I sit down and sketch; just seeing who or what develops.
Maybe it's because I can't seem to stay warm (I've been bundled up in the house all week fighting off the flu). I thought this looked like a sheet of ice surrounding the face so I went with that. When I found Kay Ryan's poem, it clicked. :)
This is my entry for Paint Party Friday. I'm sorry I wasn't able to make it around to see every one's work last week. It may take a few days but I will be visiting your blogs this week. :)




