Crumble

This is another digital art journal page. I was going through my digital files and had forgotten about these silhouette shapes. I love them. Their mysteriousness draws me to them. They remind me of ghosts; ghosts of our past selves, maybe.

The text is from a wonderful poem by Frank Bidart called The Old Man at the Wheel. The first part of the poem starts out like this: "Measured against the immeasurable/universe, no word you have spoken/brought light. Brought/light to what, as a child, you thought/too dark to be survived./By exorcism/you survived. By submission, then making./...

Then later in the poem are the two lines I use in this piece: "As you grip the things that were young when/you were young, they crumble in your hands./" The more I read the entire poem, the more I love it.

I receive the journal POETRY every month and it has been a great inspiration in my art lately. Not to mention a big boost to my poetry collection. There is a little paragraph about each poet in the back of the journal that lists their publishing credits. I have been adding some awesome books to my collection through this resource. Yay! ;)

I go back and forth between digital and physical journaling. I am feeling the pull to get back into the studio now. I've finished a page recently where I painted the page only with my fingers; it felt great! I like the freedom of smearing the paint over the page with my hand.

Today the studio calls again. It is supposed to be much cooler this weekend so I can open the windows and set up the exhaust fan. That means I am going to play with my encaustics for the first time in a long while. We shall see what that produces. I have had a few ideas in my head for a while now and I'm not sure how they will translate with the wax. The best way to find out is to experiment!