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Joy & Woe

marylizingramart —  March 15, 2011 — Leave a comment


Joy, 8×10 Soft Pastel

Woe, 8×10 Soft Pastel

Something I have found over the course of the past year is that Joy and Woe meet often in life, converging into one simultaneously unified and separately distinct emotion. I have written and created art on these thoughts before (“Sewing Lesson”), and the same poem by William Blake again inspires me. An excerpt from his “Auguries of Innocence”:

It is right it should be so
Man was made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly know
Thro the World we safely go
Joy & Woe are woven fine
A clothing for the soul divine
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.

In these new pastels, which will be framed as a pair and form a separated but unified piece of art, I have personified Joy and Woe as birds; a pair that travels through our lives, touching down sometimes in turn, but often together. These emotions, as birds, sometimes land in our lives for a moment, and sometimes settle down to nest in our hearts for awhile. Joy & Woe are both part of this life, and to recognize it makes me more grateful for the Joy, and more patiently accepting of the Woe. These contrasting emotions come and go as birds to a branch, woven into the fabric of our lives as the limbs and leaves weave above our heads, and the roots below our feet.

Birds on a Wire

marylizingramart —  March 2, 2011 — 2 Comments


Birds on a Wire, Soft Pastel

Birds on a wire. When I was drawing this picture, this phrase echoed somewhere in my mind. I get a small sense of what it means, but like something free-floating; like a feather you can’t quite catch, just out of reach. To try and clarify this vague colloquialism, I googled the phrase and received similarly vague and mixed results. To some, “bird on a wire” gives a sense of freedom, a bird high in the air, able to fly and perch where it pleases. To others, it is an expression of limited freedom, as a bird tied to a wire, able to fly but confined. “Bird on a Wire” is the title for a song, a movie, and books. There were lots of “not sure what this means,” and “I think I heard it means this…” 

When I hear the phrase, I think of spectators, onlookers, observing and judging from their perch, high above. I have been in that place, drawing conclusions with only a birds-eye view, missing the details-not in a place from which to judge. I have found that when looking at others, we should not presume to have full understanding. We can only see the surface, and maybe- maybe -a little bit more. The human life is so very complex; the human heart a mystery even to ourselves. As Henry James once wrote and William Boyd later borrowed, “Never say you know the last word about any human heart.” 

When I drew these pigeons, I imagined, with a good bit of humor, their attitudes. The large one towards the right, with beak snubbed to the sky is the matronly ring leader, guiding her feathery followers with her too-lofty observations, when all they have is a birds-eye view. The pigeons are drawn with more simplicity than I usually employ, with fewer details and definition, lest we also think we understand the spectators too clearly.