She’s seen a
lot of ports of call. The beauties
of the Orient, scent of rare perfumes, spices. She’s carried silks and gems,
books, delicate blue and white ceramics. Tea, wool and grain. Heard the
languages of the whole wide world.
But she
keeps her mind on the practical nature of her work. Eyes only to the horizon,
the line between blue and deeper blue or the grey-green of storm. Heeding
compass and chart, sextant and astrolabe.
Sometimes, though,
the lines seem to bind, not to spar or canvas, bowsprit or martingale, but to a
nearly transparent wave of memory. A cloud takes on the shape of a vessel with
full sails. She feels the tug, the swell of the Heart, and she is aweigh once
more.
Acrylic on
canvas with silk, cotton, linen, broken shell, Chinese ceramic beads, carved
bone, pearls, glass beads, tiger’s eye, agate and 23K gold leaf.
48 x 72” or
122 x 183 cm.
