2019 | 20 x 16 | Acrylic and Gold Leaf on Board
Riveted beak- you cannot speak. A story to tell, to someone. To stop and travel at your pace asks much of this world and the hurry-up obsessed people in it.
For us to pause and genuinely bend an ear to you, to lean into the awkward misunderstanding and nonlinear narrative feels wrong somehow: culturally acidic. It is fearful to disappoint that inner god demanding we never deny him FOMO. And to pause too long is to sink in this ocean of ever changing currents of social fabrics. But perhaps that is a god who deserves to be crucified. And what Spirit will breath him back to life?
Perhaps the story to tell is the fragments we hear when we slow down and come close to that feared Stop. Mosaics are lovely but need patience and persistence to gain space where we can lean back and really see them. And what is more, to not only gain from you but also to give to you!
"Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity."Simone Weil
To follow you through a maze of thoughts and memories of times long past. We Island hop from memory to joke to tease. Eventually you sigh as much as to say: "they’re not following me anymore," or "perhaps I don’t remember where we were going now."
Music once filled your nest and nourished your chicks. Now this budgie is quiet. But one day, it will be time to sing your story. And what a soft, intricate, melancholy- joy filled melody it will be.
What a story you will tell- what a melody you will sing!