In Bed Reading A Book

In Bed Reading A Book - 11.7" x 16.5" marker and acrylic paint on heavy weight paper

Maybe this should have been named, "The Flower That Didn't Want To Be A Flower..." It felt like a flower as I was laying down the shapes but after it was done, I saw myself reading a book in bed! Why not? 

Lately, I've been drawn to pinks, oranges, and reds. They feel soothing and comforting to me in a way blues and greens are not. At least, not right now. I really wanted to get lost in the lines and when I'd put a colour on the page, I felt it could go on forever, in every which way. It made me think of time again, how in a single moment, depending on what you're actually doing, it can feel expansive and elongated. And it gave me the odd impression that I could make time stop or rather, make it last longer, that a minute could go beyond sixty seconds, that the spaces between seconds could be stretched out...Maybe that's what's called, heaven on earth.

I like the orange red against the pink and white backdrop separated by black lines. There's a softness and an opportunity to let go, perhaps to find solace in the folds of a petal or a bed spread...a quilt over silky bed sheets...

What I find amazing about creating a piece of art is its potential therapeutic aspect. I have no care in the world when my hand - which is connected to my heart - touches the page. All pieces become extensions of myself. All pieces are attempts at resolving an inner conflict or attempts at finding peace in a troubled world. 

I find red along my path and it says, "Your Will is strong." I grab for pink and she says, "It's important to be gentle." Then I meet shades of orange and they say, "Get it all out." White comes along and reminds me to bring balance. Black reminds me how to practice the art of refinement.