Here's whishing you a very special day as special as you are, my dear mews1945
Without you this world would be a darker place - thank you so much for all you're doing for us!
And now enjoy your birthday, I'm wishing you lots of love, people to hug and to kiss, sunshine, flowers, happiness.
Your wishes are my wishes for you.
And here's a little something - I hope you'll enjoy.
Title: The little garden of Eden
I love watching him… when he’s so in the moment the world could explode – he wouldn’t notice. When he stands in front of his easel, wearing bleached jeans, white shirt, barely protected by an old blue linen coat, eyes smaller than usual, one hand holding a palette… On its smooth surface mixed colours in all shades you can imagine… one brush between his lips, the other hand softly holding a smaller one like baton…
Gently flowing movements in absolute silence with him completely out of this world…
‘I’m not a painter, not at all’ he always tells me but when I’m watching him I see and I feel magic happening…
I asked him when he started to paint and what it means to him.
“I always painted ever since – I think I was 7 or 8 years old when I had this feeling, when I had to the nod of a little bud or the lines of a face, the little details making them unique. It’s always amazing – different light changes the colors… red isn’t red only – it can be powerful and soothing, blue can be dark, dangerous as well as light, nor more then a little touch… Paint is water, oil, canvas and it is also liquid thought. I know from experience how utterly hypnotic the act of painting can be … and how completely it can overwhelm the mind with its smells and colors and by the rhythmic motions of the brush.”
When he talks about painting he’s enthusiastic without being frolic. Painting to him is an unspoken dialogue, where paint speaks silently in masses and colors and he as an artist responds in the moods.
“My pictures are a sum of ideas and blurry memory of pushing paint, breathing fumes, dripping oils and wiping brushes, smearing… diluting… mixing. Paint is a cast made of my movements… a portrait of my body and thoughts…”
The background on canvas is light blue and with mixing dark blue with white, yellow, even red he creates. Creates magical worlds, incredible figures…
With little brushstrokes he forms a face – they are delicate light touches that fall like lines of rain over the skin, coming down at a slight angle over the temples and next to the mouth. Brighter marks spread from the top of the forehead, crisscrossing the canted strokes over the temple. There are larger milky dapples just under the pink of the cheek – almost like downy hair and curling marks that come around the neck and congregate on the collar bone.
He encouraged me to paint for myself but I failed.
“Think of your canvas as the battleground between what your eyes see and what your brain decides it knows…” he said. To me it didn't work ... maybe I was too impatient…
When I’m looking at his paintings long enough I elude its appeal so I’m diving in, smelling the green of grass and trees, feeling the strength of brown barks and earth, tasting salt of the sea on my skin, wanting to touch the crinkles of a face…
He says he paints when he’s happy only… he paints a lot these days… Even at night…
When he thinks I’ve fallen asleep. These moments are happy moments for me as well.
Tonight he whispered when he thought me asleep ‘you make me happy, Case… I’ll go painting because I don’t know where to let out this immense feeling, because I can’t put love into words…’
Watching him now makes me love him even more.
Love is so beautiful in its own way … but loving my Zeke is like living the colors .
Colors rich, subtle, bold, beautiful. And it is magic, and magic becomes art when there is nothing to hide…
He smiles at me and there’s this mystic circle around us – like a thoughtful selection of a color harmony… powerful, intense and tender, and deep like the ocean…
To me it is the little garden of Eden.
Lots of love and big tight birthday hugs,