I've been drawing tuberose, and studying the Sphinx moths that are drawn to them, hoping to do a painting at some point. Today, my neighbor let me pick some end-of-summer tomatoes in her garden. When I returned, I had this little hitchhiker on my shoulder... the tomato hornworm. I thought about how close in color it was to the tuberose plant it would feed on in the mature moth stage. Then I didn't do too much more thinking...
just enjoyed the saturated vibrant green and the fine linear details of the markings.
I couldn't decide whether to mention my brother's sudden passing in my blog, partly because it is so gapingly fresh, but also because it is still not quite acceptable. The only reason I have to bring it up here is that, like everything else, it affects how I paint, and how I am. Well, not quite "like" everything else... like nothing else, really. It was a shock to my whole being, and I'm still reeling.
Steps are again very connected to the earth and breathing is conscious. When the mind wanders, the emotional tsunami starts to rebuild. Dreams cannot be faced yet, so I lie awake until I'm too tired for emotion and then it's shortly time to awaken and do the daily necessities, with as much focus on the moment as possible. The past is fine for a brief visit, but not too long, yet, and the imaginable future still needs someone from childhood's past, and the very recent past now, who left way too soon.
