Silent. Pauses.

Okay, so I was walking down the stairs one day and ran into these.  These are flowers that my mom picked to add a little beauty to the hallway.  They stopped me in my tracks.  Flowers are beautiful, yes, but they don’t always stop me in my tracks.  They delighted me. 

Delight is one of my favorite things.  Because I never know when it will hit, I know that it is a great gift.  When it does hit, I try to pay attention.  This painting is a thank you for my delight.

In order to express proper gratitude for my gift of delight, I have to paint something that gets across what I see and feel when I look at these particular flowers.  When I began this painting I was pretty bored.  Painting flowers can quickly remind me of all of the paintings of flowers I have seen.  After the first few hours of painting, I left it, knowing I was bored and unsure of how to fix it.  If I’m bored with the painting, you will be bored with the painting.  Also, it wouldn’t be proper omage to that gift of delight I had been given.  It was settled, I’d try again the next day. 

The next day I got an idea.  I have been reading in front of an audience, or congragation, recently and was reminded about the importance of silent pauses between words.  Silent pauses when reading can be just as important as the actual words.  I have a friend that keeps talking about how important things “in the margins” can be.   Maybe it wasn’t the flowers that I needed to concentrate on, but the space in between.

I wiped off the build-up of paint that had accumulated on each flower.  I began building up a number of blues in the space surrounding the flowers with thicker paint (using less added walnut oil).  The painting began to change.

Slowly I built up the painting to where it is here. I began playing with the vase and the surface its sitting on.  I went back in an added a bit more of a dark, deep purple-red in an effort to get that delight I got from the colors of the flowers.  I still want to build up the space surrounding the flowers to a thicker paint in hopes of emphasizing the ground space more than the flowers.  Today, this is where we stand.  

In an attempt at concentrating on the margins, did I forget them in the end?  Maybe, things that happen in the margins are important because they are quiet but full of impact.  Or maybe it’s not that they are more important, but just as important. 

Until next time…

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