Count forward, 25 years, since the dark swept into the everyday space of yours truly and ushered in the worst and best of times.
A close friend, ever a source of fun and light to my family, uncharacteristically speaks of her loneliness and grief in bereavement, an intimate and moving moment. Words of light are hard to find. Suddenly, but gracefully, a white swan emerges out of the winter-evening mist, from around the edge of a tiny island. Her four signets appear on the island and slink off a ramp, into the clouded water, perfectly in time, perfectly assured, just behind her. There are still no words. But something is in the air, or the mist. Not just, that, a small oil painting, is created and gifted to the lady we know to be a gem of humanity, but a new time of activity, openness and earthy beauty extends into our wider relationships.
Just another little episode, building ‘chiaroscuro’ on mutual canvas, otherwise dark, if not for the layer-by-layer strokes of light, applied in our thoughts, and silence, or words and acts.
My philosophy of giving away my art, in this way, becomes a habit. It starts when the signet’s leave the island and join their mother, where they belong, in the water, fog or no fog.
But, it follows the lead of our friend, ever the humble teacher and receiver of light.
‘Beauty in the Mist’, one of the last works to be signed with my early pseudonym. ‘M. Isaac’
