Element
Nov 5 2013
There must be water
There must be water
brooding darkly,
in dense grey bodies
impervious to light.
in dense grey bodies
impervious to light.
Or froth, and ice
and pure transparency.
And fog
flowing in from the sea.
In streaming ribbons, and wreaths,
silent drifts
of stealthy mist
enclosing me.
Cool air, burdened with water,
settling-in
to bottomland.
And warm, heavy, abiding,
mother earth
conferring life.
Roots, tenaciously holding
and pure transparency.
And fog
flowing in from the sea.
In streaming ribbons, and wreaths,
silent drifts
of stealthy mist
enclosing me.
Cool air, burdened with water,
settling-in
to bottomland.
And warm, heavy, abiding,
mother earth
conferring life.
Roots, tenaciously holding
to rich black soil
a sense of place.
Where all bodies return,
swaddled
in her warm enveloping weight.
While break of day
brings fire.
And night
with a billion points of light,
blazing comets
shooting stars.
Imagine art
without fire, earth
air and water.
The elements of beauty
on a dull grey day
full of breeze, and bluster.
A still life
of November grass
Where all bodies return,
swaddled
in her warm enveloping weight.
While break of day
brings fire.
And night
with a billion points of light,
blazing comets
shooting stars.
Imagine art
without fire, earth
air and water.
The elements of beauty
on a dull grey day
full of breeze, and bluster.
A still life
of November grass
where leaves lie scattered
cold and damp;
matted rafts, drained of colour
plastered down,
in the short brown stubble
of fall.
The ancient Greeks may not have understood high energy physics, or grasped the idea of fundamental particles. But they had the four basic elements, which is roughly an equivalent concept in its reductionism, simplicity, and commonality. (Or does "universality" express this more clearly: that everything is made of the same basic stuff, re-arranged?)
I think the most pleasing landscapes contain all four elements. Which goes for landscape art, as well. When I gaze out my window, even on the most aesthetically challenging day, these are what I see: the brooding lake; the forest of trees and earth; the evidence of wind and changing sky. And even when it's obscured by cloud, there is everywhere the heat and light of the sun, giving life.
On a dull grey day, I look out at the landscape framed by my picture window and consider how beauty can be reduced to the same four fundamental elements; by definition, both necessary and sufficient: earth, air, water, and fire. So I decided to paint pictures, riffing on these. But rather than making them the fundamental elements of matter, I made them instead the fundamental elements of art and beauty: what, at its simplest, is pleasing to the eye.
matted rafts, drained of colour
plastered down,
in the short brown stubble
of fall.
The ancient Greeks may not have understood high energy physics, or grasped the idea of fundamental particles. But they had the four basic elements, which is roughly an equivalent concept in its reductionism, simplicity, and commonality. (Or does "universality" express this more clearly: that everything is made of the same basic stuff, re-arranged?)
I think the most pleasing landscapes contain all four elements. Which goes for landscape art, as well. When I gaze out my window, even on the most aesthetically challenging day, these are what I see: the brooding lake; the forest of trees and earth; the evidence of wind and changing sky. And even when it's obscured by cloud, there is everywhere the heat and light of the sun, giving life.
On a dull grey day, I look out at the landscape framed by my picture window and consider how beauty can be reduced to the same four fundamental elements; by definition, both necessary and sufficient: earth, air, water, and fire. So I decided to paint pictures, riffing on these. But rather than making them the fundamental elements of matter, I made them instead the fundamental elements of art and beauty: what, at its simplest, is pleasing to the eye.
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