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DAWN & DUSK |
March 20 to APRIL 17
Between 3/20 and 4/17 we have gained 53 minutes of light in the morning and 37 minutes of light in the evening. |
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DAWN & DUSK |
March 20 to APRIL 17
Between 3/20 and 4/17 we have gained 53 minutes of light in the morning and 37 minutes of light in the evening. |
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3/20/00 |
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I'm using raw sienna and mars violet watercolor and a water soluable pencil for this lunar cycle. I see raw sienna in the new willow shoots and the remains of last years grass, and mars violet in the red tipped new sprouts on trees and shrubs, and for the earth I cannot see. The bottle is large when its the focus, but it really is very small in this big space. A ground line and a hill line under the stand have my attention. |
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3/22/00 |
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Yesterday full sun, 60 degrees, windows washed and open.Today a dark dawn. It started raining the moment I began drawing at dawn. I've listened to Chopin's "Nocturnes" all morning. Continuous rain even like a Braille page. A melancholy takes hold of me in the flat gray rain, mist, fog, and downpour. These events are especially dominant after yesterday's sun and warm breezes that pushed the daffodils into bloom. |
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3/24/00 |
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Lens comes from the Latin word meaning lentil. The lentil has the same shape as a lens. Light waves are so tiny that more than 100 could fit into the thickness of this page. |
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3/27/00 |
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After dawn when the heavy rain blew in it got so dark. It feels like night again, and I have lost the morning. At dusk the bottle was dark, sensual, and beckoning. The darkness, dampness, and dusk combined and created a depth of sensual pleasure. There are no lines when this happens. All is rounded mystery. The falling light-the gentle wind. It is the first time I knew dampness could be sensual. |
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3/29/00 |
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In this cycle I paint the light and the presence of the ground, earth, gravity, 2 knolls actually-putting in the bottle almost becomes an afterthought. The bottle has a tendency to become wet and soggy with untrue edges. Most dawns when I walk up to the studio, the rabbit hurries by, the crows are leaving for town and their days work and the birds sing. The half moon was brillant and sure in the sky. You'd think I'd like knowing that the other half in is shadow (the opposite of light), but it's too logical for me. I like thinking the other half is gone, and that small parts of the moon escape us daily until the whole moon leaves for 3 days. During those days it begins to collect itself, and builds more energy until it is whole again. I don't suppose the moon would grow weary of this process like a human might. |
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4/2/00 |
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4/4/00 |
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I'm watching the crows fly home to roost. We want to get home before dark and leave at first light. To be home before dark, to go at dawn. Dusk implies shadow, edgeless clarity. Dawn is rising, beginning, new. |
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4/5/00 |
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How can I record light in a bigger way? The light seems to come from behind, from down below as a sheet of light from behind then the landscape and then another sheet of light. The two sheets mesh. They give volume. Light has volume? This a.m. the light was earlier and lighter. Because it went through the fog? The light was not its usual Pacific NW wet. Although it was filterd, and there was much fog the light was spread even and had a buoyancy. |
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4/10 |
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Winter is gone from the air. I don't know where the idea of pastel colors for spring comes from. I see rich reds in the soil and new leaves, strong orangy reds in new shoots, deep muddy succulent browns, umbers, and siennas. Red is more dominant in the spring than most Easter bunny makers would lead us to believe. |
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4/11/00 |
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sun went and then it dawned on him? |
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I am very aware and get crazy excited to sense the light coming from the sky and the light that moves up from the ground. I suppose they meet somewhere? |
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4/14 |
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Dawn: soft arrival, fog in the hills to the west sits in pillows of new green growth. It is a thin fog that nestles and turns in those distant new leaves. I imagine it's very sensual over there right now, so I'll leave them alone. Today the rain grayed the air and landscape. Either moist ladened air or the rain was a barrier to forms. A barrier? An atmospheric presence that is its own reality. I like this better. |
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4/17/00 |
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Last night at 9PM I want to St. Stephen's church to hear their Compline Choir. Antiphons, hymns, and psalms are sung after sunset before retiring. It is a medieval monastery tradition. I don't know if it is older than that. Eight offices are celebrated each day: between midnight and dawn, sunrise, 6AM, 9AM, noon, 3PM, sunset, and compline. I think about the Islamic tradition of praying 5 times a day, at roughly these times. There is a consciousness of time, an acknowledgement of the passing of time when daily activities stop in order to contemplate other realities. |
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