A photograph by Ruth Bernhard is the only fine art photograph I have in my house. I've had it since the seventies and the women's movement. It speaks volumes, so it hangs in my bathroom where I can see it every morning.
For months I might not give it a glance as I go about getting ready for the day. Then something comes up where I feel trapped, and the lady in the box is all I see. She is hope there's a way out.
I see her emerging from confinement reborn. I'm in the same spot. I'm in flux. I'm not here, not there and have no idea which way to go, but I'm certain I'm going; I must. So I've been reading, losing myself in someone else's world and discovering new worlds to explore. I've been swimming in the lake enjoying weightlessness and wide open spaces. I have been gardening joy and arranging it on every table. I have not been painting; I want no restrictions of a specific surface or the medium's chemistry. I've been feeling both Small Within, and bully free. Till some new formation emerges that moves that lady back to oblivion...
The ground we walk on, the plants and creatures, the clouds above constantly dissolving into new formations - each gift of nature possessing its own radiant energy, bound together by cosmic harmony.
I think I'll follow Bill's, (William Cook Fine Art) lead and paint ensos, as soon as he tells me exactly what they are? Or I'll follow Cy Twombly's lead and paint sophisticated scribbles. No restrictions is what I'm after, nothing that binds and confines. It's summer.