Late one Saturday evening, after a long
and intense week of painting, I came across these images while
browsing through the Studios' archive. As first one and then another
of these pictures filled the screen, I found myself instantly
captivated and rejuvenated as I stepped into the miniature worlds
inside each frame and found myself surrounded by nameless shapes and
infinite hues.
The few minutes I spent looking at
these pictures were as restorative as a stroll in the park. Even
though I had spent a week rendering such things by means of paint
blobs at the end of a brush, I wasn't even loathe to muse upon the
techniques and phases by which I would approach the task of painting
these images. I knew, of course, I would not paint them, but not
because I was tired: I simply had other things to paint, more suited
to the kind of visual stories I like to tell.
I never cease to be amazed at the
resilience of that Spirit that moves artistic endeavor. It never
tires. I do, but it doesn't. Somehow, no matter how many thousands
and thousands of brushstrokes will be involved in even the tiniest
painting, that Spirit embarks with boundless enthusiasm and remains
undaunted. It never flinches at the number and complexities of
problems encountered along the way.
No matter how much I plan and prepare,
there always comes a point at which that Spirit is ready to begin or
re-commence, and, at that point, it does not matter how much or how
little I know about what lies ahead: It is simply time to be up and
doing, and no other course of action or inaction will suffice. And,
like the few minutes I spent lost in wonder with these simple images,
that Spirit is also the Spirit that provides beauty everywhere, and
is just as much about rest and renewal as it is about striving.
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| Photograph by Ashton Young |
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| Photograph by Ashton Young |
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| Photograph by Ashton Young |
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