My son puts on his new coat, and breaks ice like shattered glass with thick driftwood walking sticks on New Years Day. Light-weight organic hockey sticks, heavy, worn by the elements. Handled. Drawing XandO’s in the gravel… a favorite chosen stick gets re-owned by a large wet dog at McDonald Beach. A beautiful Canadian day. Frosted blades of long green grass. Sunny blue, white-whipped cirrus winter sky, like a crisp Calgary day in Vancouver. The big rocks along the banks are definitely YVR style and can’t compare to the East coast boulders.
“She passed away, which kept me in Newfoundland for some time. Then New York for a few weeks, now Nova Scotia which is lovely. Quiet. Calm.” And so begins a New Year for a special friend. “What were her favorite flowers?” we chat, “I’d love to paint them.”
My studio gets a fresh coat of paint. Covering layers that only a deep scrape could help reminisce. A red wall when I painted Silver Sky. The grey paintings inspired the red Autumn Storm and the wall became white. A previous tenant preferred green walls, and so came the Aqua Ponds. Each layer of paint, a collection, a period of time in my life. Each color a fond memory in my life palette.
I work on my new series (posting to come). Flowers and waterscapes — connecting my abstract florals in Dubai and my contemporary landscapes in Canada. In my transition I find comfort in something familiar.
Surrealists believed water was a visual of the subconscious. I draw Life lines as they move in and out of water, sometimes a distorted reflection, sometimes a crisp shadow. A loose line and a quiet reflection. A transition of styles for me. A transition in life is typically, a loss of a role, a person, a place, or where you fit in the world. What is in between the beginning and end? Are you holding on, or releasing? In the transition, a relaxed optimistic perspective of the future helps. Reminding yourself what familiarity you require.
The end of a relationship or the beginning? The memories, endearing mannerisms, the values passed down, they are immortal. As we gain life experience, those memories change in perspective. They are a constant reminder of that person, and your relationship to them. What legacy do we choose to leave behind. What are those things so familiar and dear we never want to let go, even in transition.
My kindergarten son explains how to breathe. “Like a square Mom.” he draws with his hand in the air. “Breathe IN.” One line up. “Then slowly HOLD it,” He draws a level line, smoothly across the air “..and slowly breathe out… and then hold it again Mom!” he says with a smile as he completes his lesson in transitions. The neighbor watches my son in his new coat. The one her son played in, walked to school in, and was passed down to me. Perspective is a wonderful thing.
Ovazione, Karen Lorena Parker, Opera Floral Collection
Quite inspirational…
Hard to determine about where the lines fit re: where the beginning is, after the end…
Is the end real or still lingering on?
Is there ever an end ?
How can we erase those memories, all the years we spent together…,, the family we had? the good times when we laughed and played and talked
The elocuence of the silent evenings besides the fire…
Not easy… not anytime soon…
I love the excitement and motion in your work! I also love the color palette in the Autumn storm it is so rich .
Thank you. Appreciate you reading my Blog.