|Far Inland There Were Seagulls, 36 X 48, Oil on Collage, buy a print.|
So there I was sitting in the car at the mall parking lot wondering what in the world this poem was even about to begin with, let alone where on earth was this future "work of art" going to come from. Besides there ain't no seagulls far inland. Come on. I was getting all worked up. What was I thinking? Screw it.
Then poof. There were seagulls all over the place. Walking around on the parking lot, thinking, I suppose, how incredibly similar this was to the water. They were doing all manner of loops and spirals and aerobatic tricks right in front of me. Quite a mystical, magical moment. Of course they were there all along, but my brain wasn't allowing them in. Sat there for an hour enjoying the show (and planning my "work of art").
My attempts at collage had degenerated into me sticking torn random shapes onto canvas--once I got the whole thing covered, I was going to start adding crazy random pictorial elements and just see what emerges--kind of like the old scribble approach. After the parking lot episode all the sudden seagulls showed up and gilded contrails. Out comes the paint. Now I'm doing the same thing the seagulls were doing. Playing, doing loopty loops, paintin, livin and lovin. I began to realize just how far inland they had come after all.
The show came and went. Picked up my piece.