The early sun beams relentlessly upon the lawn of chartreuse green. Even the shaded places are warmed to sauna humidity. Steam rises in the yellow light. Cast shadows are dark, sap hues shift to spruce then brighten with the day’s age.
Beads drip round a water glass. Coffee cools in a paper cup. I begin my day with a letter. Words thoughtfully composed take shape upon a page. I sort a pile of papers, archive important things for posterity, and categorize assorted items for appointed places. Three books and corresponding hardbound sketchbooks stack neatly for daily study. Continued learning yields new approaches and advances perspective for compositions practice, otherwise presumed ancient, conventional and uninteresting.
I write down a thought: “if you think you know something entirely, perhaps it should be examined from other angles.” Like a complex root system, this thought continues, compelling one to consider many things and ever placing oneself at the center of the question for cross examination. Midday painting prompts shift reflecting the day’s rhythm. The philosopher, the student, the mentor, the big picture- all teach those who listen.
White bowls scattered over a mahogany desk, in each bowl paint; hues of gray, red and umber, echinarachnius parma. The velvet hues of gray infused with Tuscan earth, salt and paper aroma. By noon a new meditation beholds rebirth, a new painting, a letter, a book, a lesson. Renewal.