Return to the Source

This week-end I headed for Mont-Tremblant to escape the extreme heat of the city. I brought a pile of smaller paintings and set up under a tree at Place de la Gare in the old village.

 I stayed with a friend who lives in a magical cabin perched amongst the rocks along the edge of a lake. There is no road to this little piece of wilderness bliss so she came to

pick me up in her small motorboat every evening.

I was happy to visit with my friends, the rocks and roots again. They had much to tell me and I loved listening to the silence of their textures and crevices.

As the days grew hotter, plunging into the lake was like slipping into a cool, silk gown, refreshing for body, mind and soul.

"Crying Lake" was painted one week before I encountered this lake. Did I paint the lake into my reality? or did the lake beckon me? When does the imaginal realm cross over?

Liminal Space / Sacred Space

Crying Lake / 16" x 20" / acrylic on panel board

Sometimes painting is a magical, mystical ride.