By: kmarulis

Feb 03 2011

Category: Uncategorized

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It can be as dangerous to contemplate the nature of one’s own art as it is to doubt the nature of one‘s own existence. As paint is applied to canvas or a picture is drawn, one becomes reacquainted with the inner wellspring that announces itself as creative sustenance and it is best to allow those deep currents to flow as they will. These are the waters that exist within, waiting reservoirs of absorbed images and spent feelings. As it is with dormant memories, long buried and so deeply mired in the muck of living, one is at first forced to wade through a surrounding tide made up of the banalities of an ordinary life . When the clinging froth has been pushed aside, one is finally able to lay one’s head down and sniff at the energized aroma. It becomes something entirely new as the roiling shapes and ideas of a forgotten time once again persist and demand to be heard and a seemingly arbitrary system of personal contemplation eventually allows a careful sip from those sweet waters. This is a serious business and it has never failed. The waves and the waters and the creatures within are always there waiting. It is a gift, really, not to the world, but rather to one’s self, that to remember to visit a private refuge that offers as privilege some small validation for a life lived.

   Here is a painting that began as a drawing in a hospital waiting room as the expectation towards the well-being of my daughter and the birth of my grandson grew. I was considering the complexities of the female of our species and I eventually decided to portray the opposite gender as a tree. The roots of that tree would absorb through its roots those necessities of female existence and the branches of that tree would bear the essence and the byproducts of what it means to be a female. From the trunk would spew forth a new life and from her environment other creatures would come to settle upon her branches in order to offer the good and bad of influence.                                                                                                                                               

   I never finished this painting. I had come to feel that my depiction of this multifaceted creature was deficient and my treatment of her was shallow, at best.

   I plan on returning to this painting some day with the purpose of giving this metaphor its rightfull due.  After all, there is so much more to being a woman just as the branches of a tree seem countless beyond measure.

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