Ink to Paper
We go out every week to paint "in life." Walking through paths encrusted with blackberry vines, skidding down sandy hillsides, we come across the breathtaking vista of ocean. Armed with ink and paintbrush, paper flying, the artist sees rock, water, and air for the first time. The scene moves through us, mist coming in and out, lifting and hovering, soft and light as mouse fur, heavy and damp like a bone-chilling cloak.
Clouds scoot by, waves crash and ebb, an occasional seabird plummets to fish ... we breathe in and out, still, listening, bringing our awareness to the moment. We are poised yet letting go, allowing the Ch'i to move the brush. Transformation comes from that movement, from the rhythmic beat of waves on shore.
We learn something new each time we paint "in life." The big questions of light and dark, form and non-form, empty and full are addressed as we put ink to paper. What we see, endless horizon or rocky cliff, seems to be us.