This Moment

As I press keys on my keyboard, words appear, spelling out my insecurities like a Polaroid from years gone by. I painted a picture the other day, it’s facing me now, as if it had it’s own thoughts and preoccupations. I stare blankly back, looking past the layers of oil to the bareness of canvas which holds the image together. The more I look, the more I feel myself falling into the captivating emptiness that peers so painfully out into my soul. This subtle yet immensely powerful communication offers me understanding, a fragment of comprehension about the nature of my life. To me being an artist isn’t about art, it’s about being. This moment, this feeling, this is my art.

(April 2004)

River Hunt