TRANSITION
NOTE: In March of 2018 I posted this image, having no idea that two years later, in March of 2020, our lives would be majorly transitioning. I'm working on my 2021 calendar and absorbed with selecting images appropriate to last year. Interesting that 9 out of 12 were shot right here in or out of my studio . . . and the other 3 were within miles from home, either over the border in Rhode Island, or a few miles down the road in Mystic, CT; whereas in the past, I'd feature photographs from travels to all the New England states!
This is the second time, in my search, eerily,
I've come across a very prophetic image.
an unfinished canvas,
hanging on the wall.
W A I T I N G
for the inspiration to be transformed.
I happened to capture the first few newly applied brush strokes
to a piece my husband had placed on some newspaper
on the floor of his studio . . .
In my opinion, he was finished . . . but of course I left him in his solitude to follow his muse.
As artists, oftentimes we tend to overwork a piece, absorbed in thought, not knowing when to break or have a sense of completion.
Reading my "Daily Word" today, I was struck by the profound line,
"We die to some aspect of life that has been obstructing our true self, so that we can move forward with more freedom than ever before."
TRANSITION
NOTE: In March of 2018 I posted this image, having no idea that two years later, in March of 2020, our lives would be majorly transitioning. I'm working on my 2021 calendar and absorbed with selecting images appropriate to last year. Interesting that 9 out of 12 were shot right here in or out of my studio . . . and the other 3 were within miles from home, either over the border in Rhode Island, or a few miles down the road in Mystic, CT; whereas in the past, I'd feature photographs from travels to all the New England states!
This is the second time, in my search, eerily,
I've come across a very prophetic image.
an unfinished canvas,
hanging on the wall.
W A I T I N G
for the inspiration to be transformed.
I happened to capture the first few newly applied brush strokes
to a piece my husband had placed on some newspaper
on the floor of his studio . . .
In my opinion, he was finished . . . but of course I left him in his solitude to follow his muse.
As artists, oftentimes we tend to overwork a piece, absorbed in thought, not knowing when to break or have a sense of completion.
Reading my "Daily Word" today, I was struck by the profound line,
"We die to some aspect of life that has been obstructing our true self, so that we can move forward with more freedom than ever before."