Does a passionate appreciation of a moment in time:
The other morning I was sitting on my patio having coffee when, with the quality of a distant rainstorm sweeping in, a huge flock of grackles flooded into, around and through my yard. I heard them coming for long seconds before they arrived, like a tide coming in, first a few, then more, than the full on-rushing of the flock. Then, bit by bit, they moved on, and I heard the tide moving out, away, and finally gone.
have the same value as a passion for getting a painting right?
When the light floods across the canvas and the shadows are dark and dense, and the colors cry out to the eye, when the painting breaks on me like the feeling that swept into me with those grackles, that's when the painting is right.
Not all paintings can move me that way, but each painting I complete must have some of that feeling to it, or it will not survive the next few days or months. Sometimes, even paintings that have satisfied for years will finally succumb to change and be reworked into something new.
So, this is 'passions'. Next time: 'truths'.
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