Those blue bonnets, if you look at them a shade too long, go straight past the part of you that thinks theyre pretty, to another part of you that begins to feel theres something soft and direct and loving left in the world. They look as if theyd feel cool against your skin and if you keep looking you begin to think maybe you ought to ease on over there, get out of the car, and go lay down in them. The brilliant red of the Indian paintbrushes and the exotic orange-yellows of the firewheels growing along side the bluebonnets picks you right back up, though. You get antsy around them, and I find when I look at them too long I remember a certain young womans shoulders, years ago, when we practically lived on the tennis courts. That first good sunburn of spring made her glow, and I liked it and felt buckish around her, though I never told her so. Where the two mix, those cool violet blues and the ecstatic reds, you might think of Van Gough or maybe Edward Hopper paintings, ones vision and the others essential isolation. I wonder how youd paint this mix. It seems to my eye a restive state, a tense no-mans land between what the eye and soul need and what the body and heart want. If you look closely enough, theres big Zen along a Texas highway. Or maybe it comes just because youre behind the windshield a little too long. Either ways fine.
Posted on: Fri, 28 Mar 2014 20:21:08 +0000
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