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Medium melts, puddles, spreads on the hot steel palette, eighteen inches of liquid, some clear, portions of sky blue, a baby’s pink flesh, the metallic pewter of granite,some colors disappear into more dominant shades, soundless oozing, the slight tick of the hot plate melting the world away, color, texture, warm beeswax and damar pitch filled with African grass and elephant hair.
Zimbabwe in every stroke of my brush.Botswana speaking through my hands.Dobbing, dragging, scoring, building up, scratching out, razoring down through layers of color, exposing a hint of lemon yellow, a line of viridian, quinacridone magenta and zinc white melt into a gentle lady’s lace.
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