I’m not sure that this is finished, but I’m counting it as my piece of art for the week. I’ve been fascinated with petroglyphs for the last week or so. Also, Africa is still bumping around inside my skin. I’m dreaming of ancestors and what it must have been like to be so close to the prospect of death. It must have made family and friends so important. And I love that even in times so primitive, art was important enough to find its way on the walls. That means something to me.
I have miles and miles of damp caves waiting for me to make my marks.
For those of you who read my post from last week, I did end up changing the painting that I hated so much. And now I love it. Nothing is ever beyond redemption. This is true.