Wiosna! /ˈvʲɔs.na/
Gosh, it’s here
Wiosna → Spring, if you wonder what-the-font? But I’m sure you already know I like to sneak in a Polish word here and there. You’re welcome, oh Poliglot!
Which brings me to the absolute surprise — the red and COLOR is back in my world.
Curtesy of Spring 2019.
It has been a long, dreadful, slushy, wet, snowy, sad, gray over the top, winter.
BEAUTIFUL. But grim and unwelcomed especially in my 10 foot ceiling art studio which, for the love of God, would not heat up fast enough.
It was cute. In October.
Now I call it an abuse.
Sometime in January all this overdressing and glove-painting made me to re-feel my connection to New England. Because, and I’m saying it because this question is asked so many times, Poland’ winter is like, 2 weeks of snow.
And then in 2018 they had summer for, like, 7 months. Yeah, really — my father sends me pictures of crocuses since February And then he follows it up with:
“Come back” / sniff sniff
You remember my obnoxious gashing over the New England, don’t you? I loved EVERYTHING. Seasons, grays, and most importantly, the Ocean.
Ocean is a constant — a constant love, emotional supporter, cleansing agent, Sister, Mother, migraine doctor. That’s my food. It’s my breakfast, launch, dinner, and snacks. Water is my air and when I read some philosophies stating that we, humans, started in ocean, I gasp. I KNOW I have some gills somewhere.
So where can I get ocean diving for more than 2.5 months? It’s a rhetorical question, but if you live somewhere in a paradise, do let me know 🙂
But — ART.
GRAY has been my guiding force. Without being obvious, it adds vibrancy to my work and life. The skies and rocky shores of NE are absolutely silver with slivers of pink. I adore it.
But on March 20, on a Full Moon (which is not my favorite time of the month, to tell you the truth: MOODY crazy lady is who I become around that time) I looked at the stack of my orphan red paints and, like an addict, for a non-stop 7 hours, painted in reds, maroons, oranges, corals and pinks.
And then, at 8 pm that evening, after two pots of hibiscus tea (obvious connection to ‘red’), I stood in front of all the art in progress and I knew I birthed a healthy new WIOSNA ME.
― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden
“Is the spring coming?” he said. “What is it like?”…
“It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine…”
Living with seasons is fascinating. You get astonished by your own life. Moon changes and you end up sleepless, typing up blog posts ideas until 3am. The birds come back by the window and serenade the Spring, and you paint in red for the first time since 2017.
Who knew.
I declare it often: art is in my blood in a color of cobalt. That won’t change. Praise Blue!
BLUE is my parent color. When I look at my blue/green/purple paintings in Bloomlands, Newlands, and Wetlands (especially the green/blue in the latest collection with gold shining like an afternoon sun), I feel they’ve been whispered to my fingers by voices of elemental magick.
“Here, / swoosh – whiff – whoosh /, take this soft dim, minty air and channel ultramarine lands, maybe even write a tiny blue poem.”
ADORE.
But expect my joy from working with COLOR (especially coral-pinky type of an innocent red) to re-surface from its own Sleepy Hollow.
