Sunday, September 11, 2016

s e p t e m b e r

"Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art— 
not in lone splendour hung aloft the night 
And watching, with eternal lids apart, 
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, 
The moving waters at their priestlike task 
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, 
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask 
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors— 
No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, 
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, 
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, 
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, 
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, 
And so live ever—or else swoon to death."
John Keats

It seems fitting that my latest watercolor paintings are mostly moody blues. 
Brooding, romantic, mysterious and other worldly, yet familiar.
Sapphire, indigo, cerulean, prussian, hints of brown, 
persimmon and laced with silver and gold.
Dozens of diminutive butterflies are now roosting in my shop 
along with geometric and starry sky patterns, escutcheons, and
portraits of John Keats and Fanny Brawne.