Letters To My Son
My son and I live far apart and so have a crafted a way of storytelling in a shared language of art and history. We have learned how to love, across distance and time.
This artwork explores the idea of place as a poetic landscape. It is shaped with found objects, fragments of hand written letters and telephone wires. Then painted with oils and burnished with wax.
It is a play on the idea of reaching out to another and being heard.
Sojourn:
“to stay for a time in a place”
Sweet long days. Light and warmth. Old bones soaking up desert heat. As we make ready for the rituals of summer in some other place. Soon I will smell of wood smoke and pine. Bundled up in care worn clothes. My hair gone wild.
Eagles overhead and the boat house awaiting. Finding my way back to painting, sculpting, writing. I understand now, what stirs in the breast of birds. The instinctive knowing to head North. The ancestral urging. Homeward. A snowbird surrender.
No one ever said you only get one great love. And no one ever said you only get one home to love. Let us delight in the time and place and people where we be. Let us make beauty. Trusting that come winter, Tucson will call us back with the same sweet yearning, for home.
