Recline in Ancestors
Some aesthetics of mortality defined in beauty.
In flesh, the fabric of mortality displays its countenance. A bloom, a purpose for existence to feed a glance. All manner of construction, function and presentation tap out coded signals, in colour, pace and rhythm from some grand design.
So beauty, whatever that may be, is paramount… on opening glances great consequences lie.
Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go,
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child works hard for a living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day,
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.
I gazed into flames from the wood of a tree,
a tree from the graveyard not too far from me.
Licking the air and the wood and the smoke,
as if glad to be free and alive and it spoke.
The language of movement and forms it had been,
energy dancing a red flowing stream.
Sap rising through roots, branches and bark,
changing form and intention, spirits making their mark.
On life and the living ever changing in form,
new facets and values akasha reborn.
Work in progress
From the above detail. Again this is only a larger detail, half the canvas is shown here.
Soft flesh born from nurtured light, firmament and vapours mix. Excited atoms precipitate and congregate in mutual satisfaction; life begins.
Through sunburst eye the boiling sun. Bloated bulbous colours bleed spectrum yellows, reds, green and blue. Flecks swirl in fluid snowstorm, material set adrift. Distorted landscape without reference though a saline orb.