Sister Of The Sky, oil on stretched canvas 30 x 20 inch, edges painted as part of the scene, varnished, strung and readt to hang.
I went out on an April morning All alone, for my heart was high,
I was a child of the shining meadow,I was a sister of the sky.
There in the windy flood of morning,longing lifted its weight from me.
Lost as a sob in the midst of cheering,swept as a sea bird out to sea.
The poem was by Sara Teasdale.
She and others like Christina Rossetti often have the ability to trigger snippets of memories and nostalgic trivia stored inside my head under the label 'life's random events'.
I normally exploit the canvas weave to displace light and hue but in 'Sister Of The Sky' I repeatedly primed and scraped back for a smooth untextured surface.
That exercise was not to alter the visual appearance of the painting but to lock or seal-in the complex and many 'layered' events within the story,,forever.
oil on canvas, varnished, strung and ready to hang