The power of illumination
from such occurrences provides the subject matter that spills forth. A powerful thing when one begins to fill a canvas with this sediment.
The mere notion that there is no one like me. There is only one person with my DNA pattern, my history, my bedrock of artistic images... should thrill me with delight or leave me shaking in my boots.
My childhood has been washing over me in waves these few weeks. I was rereading "Leaning into the Wind" (women write from the heart of the west) and conjuring up many images of farm life in Laredo. The quiet roll of the prairie as it rose up to meet the horizon line, the tenacious wind that howled without warning on certain days, the hot sun that wrapped it's warm embrace around my shoulders, and Big Sandy Creek that existed for us to explore. Out of the book fell black and whites of my mom and dad from long ago.
I began to think of the movie "Captain Hook". As the small child looks deeply into Peter Pan's face (after he has failed miserably at being a child), "Peter Pan are you in there? Oh! There you are!" Annie, are you in there? Oh! There you are!
It's good to be back.
