Well… took the paint chips off and instead wrote a Pablo Neruda poem onto the background:
Soliloquy in the Waves
Yes, but here I am alone.
perhaps it says its name, I don’t understand,
it mutters, humps in its load
of movement and foam
and withdraws. Who
can I ask what it said to me?
Who among the waves can I name?
And I wait.
Once again the clearness approached,
the soft numbers
rose in foam
and I didn’t know what to call them.
So they whispered away,
seeped into the mouth of the sand.
Time obliterated all lips
with the patience of shadow and
the orange kiss
I stayed alone,
unable to respond to what the world
was obviously offering me,
that richness spreading itself,
the mysterious grapes
of salt, love unknown,
and in the fading day
only a rumor remained,
further away each time,
until everything that was able to
changed itself into silence.
Maybe I’ll add more “stuff”… dunno yet. Ready to move on to another page in the meantime.
An art journal entry from March 31st, resulting from a group skry I did on Monday night. Not quite successful in translating the experience visually, but it’s close enough. Fuzzy photo courtesy of my iPhone and low lighting. My other camera’s battery ran out of juice just as I was getting ready to shoot some photos. Not sure about leaving the color paint chips on there… my Winsor & Newton watercolor chart was starting to spew forth the color samples, so I thought I’d put them on the pages, but I’m not sure yet… I think I’ll sleep on it.