On a chilly gray morning on May 7th, I took an extra minute before getting in the car to look out at the river through the small space in the garden. To my surprise, this space—this lens, this portal, this viewfinder, was an altar. Moments like these make me stop, feeling the stillness and the grounding in a moment where the symbols in my art present themselves in front of me. It feels serendipitous and these moments remind me to continue on, moving forward along this unknown path.
Right now, I am making paintings on fabric, paper, and panels of an arched shape that I am calling an altar, as I explore this shape in four ways: as burial (object), as window (lens), as portal (transformation), and as threshold (in-between space, neither here nor there).
I most appreciate the documentation of this space, this altar, for the shifting light during an evening, the shadows on the sidewalk in the morning, or the vibrancy of colors affected by the sunlight.
I ask myself how it functions.
Is this a viewfinder? Yes. Is this a portal? Yes. What happens when I use it as a framework? What is the experience of viewing the river through this frame? What happens when the images within it change and move? What happens if it is veiled? How does my body fit within it? What is it like to look at it from the other side, from the exact moment it shifts from one to the other, on the garden wall.
This is so beautiful. 😍✨💓