Playing With Photos
I’m trying to see if I can surround a photo with text. This is, of course, a maple leaf. I take a lot of photos with an eye to using them in or for a painting, at some point. When Painting Woman is allowed to surface, she sees everything as a potential painting. She sets up the painting, creates a palette, thinks about shadows, what to leave in and what to include, and how to do it. For the leaf: paint a base color of golden orange? Layer on the red? Paint the red (to put it simply), etch out the veins with a pin, and add gold? I dunno. Each attempt is an exercise in itself, just for the pleasure of finding out what works.
When I’m in full painting mode, it can be a nuisance; it’s all I think about. Clouds, mountains, faces, interesting juxtapositions of form and color: I think constantly about How To Paint This as I see. I am therefore processing images rather than words, plot, dialogue, etc. during those times when I am away from my keyboard. When I’m writing, I’m full into it. I go to bed with scenes–dialogue, motive, The New Thought That Illuminates The Whole, etc.– unfolding in my mind, and have to get up and write them down, for they are ephemeral. When I allow myself to relax into default, which seems to be painting mode, I’m not that way.
For many years, I was always in Poetry Mode. Lines came into me one at a time, wherever I was, stimulated by all I saw and heard. “Private Gravity” is a poem I published in Asimov’s (one of the best-paying markets for poetry!) years ago. I will make it the next post.