Last night I went to bed wanting something easy to read. But instead I picked up John Berger’s Why look at animals? He writes about being in love, and how when one is in love, ‘one wants to make love with fish, with fruit, with hills, with forests, in the sea’. (p 94). I guess it is about a certain expansiveness one is lent when one’s heart is open.
This morning I went into the wet garden as first light was creeping across the sky. A small bird was perched brightly in the tree above me, singing the most beautiful and exquisite song. One star still in the sky, the firmament pale washed blue. Feeling in love with the world, with the garden, with the bird high up in that tree which is in silhouette, which does not see me or need me but which pours out his song.
So you pour out your beauty like a song. I hear it. Tears come to my eyes. I am rooted to the spot. There is nothing for me to do except register it, feel it in my soul, and suffer to some extent because of it.
Working today on the original or organismic self. The part we are born with, our true self. Where the true and best part of us lives, is found.
The large canvas is now exploring a figure about to be born from the flank of a doe. The figure appears to be wrapped in a cocoon or chrysalis. It recalls a dream I had where I saw a figure in space floating, attached by cords to a chrysalid form. I feel it is probably about me exploring my organismic self, which has it’s home energetically in the body of a deer.
I was working on the largest canvas today, hoping it will be complete in time for my show at Newlyn Art Gallery. I have also been looking at another recent one, a young deer raised in the air, an adult hind above, a young human below, perhaps she is reaching for the faun, perhaps she will place it on her head as a crown? There are also blue flowers, they seem important, I am not sure why.
I spent much of the weekend going through over 2000 digital photos for my show at Newlyn Art gallery. They are now ready to be installed at the space in a month’s time. It has been interesting seeing how the garden, the plants, and the light has changed; also, how my photography has changed. I have become more comfortable taking photos from different angles,i.e. using my body more when taking pictures.I have also decided on the final shots for the short film about the sparrows in the garden – two taken at dusk, and two at dawn. In the dusk shots a beautful cloud slowly emerges into the brilliance of the last sunlight, and in the dawn sequences the birdsong is glorious, the light very slight but almost imperceptibly growing. Looking at the photos and the films I became more aware of the endless cycles always going on in Nature, overlapping and interconnecting with each other.
I have just returned from taking the dogs for a run on the beach – lively sunny morning after terrific stormy night.
The garden has bursts of summery joy when the sun shines, and it is wonderful. The flowers are even more brilliant in their last days; yesterday a butterly came, and still bumblebees visit. Nerines flower gorgeously, and drifts of cosmos. Taking out the summer crops makes me a little sad, but then when I spread the compost I think of sowing seed for winter salad and I feel better. Betsy loves playing with empty flowerpots, and charging around the garden. In my studio the plant imagery is coming more strongly; the nourishment we receive from them is more evident to me.