Today, a Sunday as it turns out, I will finish Garden, a painting started (conceptually) about seven years ago. It’s lived with me in seven different studios, and we’ve covered lots of miles. Now mind you, I haven’t worked everyday all day. In fact, years at a time have past without a single brush stroke. But never without attention — never without constant processing of the overarching Eden myth, and applying it to these times, and most of all watching it rework its magic on me as we coevolved.
… but here I am waxing philosophical when I should be finishing the last of the detail work on the hands and apple.
Every apple
is an angel with wings
a moment of choice
and a home on the precipice
of pure potential
