Week 118

Two fingers tugged at the lip of the paint drawer. It slid open wordlessly, exposing the metal tubes of pigment, each with their own indentions and smudges that belie their interiors. 

Then, there was a flurry of openings. Tiny ridges marked our fingertips before giving way. New indentions were made in the supple metal. Delightful color filled the palette, deep, glossy and winking in the light. 

With two inch chisels each in hand, we gathered to our work. The slide of oil and hue beneath our brushes feels steady and familiar while holding the tension of a certain thrill. Long fingers brush pass one another over the canvas and again absently over the pools of color awaiting below. There is a current - arcing between the brushes and fingers that seem completely lost in their own work, yet in those moments tingle with awareness of the other person. A touch as propelling as it is reassuring.

My favorite part is the bend in the leaf. Small imperfections that a gardener would bemoan are the aspects I had the most fun with. Lovingly, we adorned the tips and ridges of the bent foliage with reflected light. As they bend, sway and sometimes even break, the leaves tap out a rhythm. It is in those imperfections, those undulations that a dance of immeasurable beauty is created. 

Dancing Green

24x36 | Oil on Panel