Mind’s Eye
This profusion of nature, of leaves, flowers and insects, surely cannot be real. It is more like an unfurled imagination. Through it my younger son walks. I feel as if with each step, the scene could change, the plants could start to twist and shift, die off, re-grow, the bees could buzz away, night could become day, rain could start to fall. Anything is possible.
The canvas, like the world itself, is simply a reflection of the mind’s eye. As we walk through life, we move through beautiful fantasies of who we are, how we matter, what we are doing. With each step we take, each breath, we create meaning. We grab the world and twist it to our ends. We are all creators, we are all painters.
There’s a problem though. We are addicted to the dream. One could crawl through the old sewer drain, but there’s nothing on the other side. We can’t see beyond our dream. Rather stay here, keep walking, keep dreaming. It’s beautiful here, for as long as we last.
Puppies
This painting started with a memory. As a small child I grew up in a huge wild garden. One day I was exploring alone, picking through the thickets on the edge of my paradise, when I discovered a small dog with new puppies. The smell and sound of those tiny packets of life, warm in my hands while the mother watched on, made me so happy. The feeling of a secret existence always continuing, even without me there, was a revelation.
This dog is in the throes of her life, absolutely at the mercy of her nature. As are we all. Humans like to dress it up, make it grand. But it isn’t really. We are born, we reproduce, we die, like every other creature. But in our hubris we use other species.
We make dogs extensions of ourselves. We pick up and discard them, lavish them with love, humanise them, neglect them. We exchange adorable pictures of them, laughing at their human-like antics, dressing them up, revelling in their devotion. They gaze back at us with vulnerable dignity.
We are intruding into this moment, glimpsing a life process outside of ourselves. Nature has run rampant, the sheer number of puppies is preposterous, the drive to reproduce is vertiginously powerful. All around is the natural world, both sheltering and unseeing. A piece of white canvas like a frayed edge, reminds us we can’t believe our own eyes.
Heart’s Ease
A piece of meadow hovers in the black depths of the canvas. Flowers burst forth, bees buzz about, and in the centre, a thrush pulls at one of the worms which weave in and out of the rich soil.
As our eyes wander though the blades of grass and patches of clover, we realise, like an afterthought, that a human skeleton lies embedded in this glorious verdancy.
There is surely no sweeter resting place than this. Tiny plants sprout from the open mouth and the caverns of the eyes. There is no more use for coins, clothes, dreams. These humble bones have given way to nature’s generous profusion. Life persists regardless.
Wishes have no place here, nor thoughts, nor even dread. Peering into this Eden at my future self, my heart is at ease.