Rose

Rose (Stacy Wills, 2015)

16" x 20" acrylic on canvas

We seldom notice how each day is a holy place

Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,

Transforming our broken fragments

Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.

Excerpt taken from John O'Donohue's (1956-2008) 

poem, "The Inner History of a Day."

Kindled

Kindled (Stacy Wills, 2015)

acrylic on canvas, cropped from larger painting

"And it came to pass…when I was 42 years and 7 months old, that the heavens were opened and a blinding light of exceptional brilliance flowed through my entire brain…it kindled my whole heart and breast like a flame, not burning but warming…and suddenly I understood…"

                                                                                                               

                                                             -Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179)

Sitting

Sitting (Stacy Wills, 2015)

24" x 36" acrylic on canvas

Love came and emptied me of self,

every vein and every pore,

made into a container

to be filled by the Beloved.

Of me, only a name is left,

the rest is You my Friend,

my Beloved.

Abu-Said Abil Kheir,

Sufi poet (967-1049)

The Evolution of "Your Time Has Come to Shine" + Words of Wisdom from Marianne Williamson

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?"

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.  Your playing small does not serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking 

so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do.  We were born 

to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us; it is in everyone.

-Marianne Williamson

Your Time Has Come to Shine (Stacy Wills, 2015)

24" x 36" acrylic on canvas

The Evolution of Anastasia and a poem from Pablo Neruda

The good thing about having studio space away from home is that I get to spend a lot of time painting with minimal distraction (meaning time on the internet!), which is lovely…the bad thing about having minimal internet time is - my blog is sorely neglected.  This morning I am up early to get a jump on preparing a proper Sunday dinner for my two youngest children and their friends who are in town for the weekend.  While I'm waiting for the boiled eggs to cool enough so that I can peel them, I thought I'd chronicle the evolution of my most recent painting, Anastasia. 

 

 

 

Anastasia by Stacy Wills, 2015

(20" x 24" acrylic on canvas)

My other passion is poetry…sometimes the writing of it…but always the reading.  I delight in pairing  word and image…always in search of the right wine to accompany the meal…for this painting, a fine Pablo Neruda.

Poetry

And it was at that age…poetry arrived

in search of me.  I don't know, I don't know where

it came from, from winter or a river.

I don't know how or when,

no, they were not voices, they were not

words, nor silence,

but from a street I was summoned,

from the branches of night,

abruptly from the others,

among violent fires

or returning alone

there I was without a face

and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth

had no way

with names

my eyes were blind,

and something started in my soul,

fever or forgotten wings,

and I made my own way,

deciphering

that fire

and I wrote the first faint line,

faint, without substance, pure

nonsense,

pure wisdom

of someone who knows nothing,

and suddenly I saw

the heavens

unfastened

and open,

planets

palpitating plantations,

the darkness perforated,

riddled

with arrows, fire and flowers,

the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,

drunk with the great starry

void,

likeness, image of

mystery,

I felt myself a pure part

of the abyss,

I wheeled with the stars,

my heart broke loose on the wind.

-Pablo Neruda (1904 - 1973)

The Evolution of "Love Does"

 I am fascinated by how paintings evolve.

Especially when one does not start out

with a particular image in mind.  Such was

the case with this painting.  What began as

an abstract in which I wanted to simply use 

up the leftover paint from my last painting,

morphed into something else completely.

I have begun to photograph the stages that

my paintings go through.  I find it helps me

gain a different perspective and gives me

a new set of eyes with which to see what

needs changing or adding or more attention.

In the case of this abstract, I noticed the curve

of turquoise and thought it looked like the

edge of a halo - the kind saints have in icons,

and thus the journey began...

Doing the initial rough sketch.

Trying out different color combinations.

Hmmm...to add a cross...or

not.  This was a turning point.  A sadness crept in and

 I did not know if this was going to be a man or a woman.

I enjoy listening to spoken word pieces while I paint.

They may be audio books, podcasts, lectures, 

or even sermons.  At this juncture, I had begun 

to listen to a sermon in which the minister

referenced the story of Rizpah from the Old

Testament, which can be found  in II Samuel 21:8-14.

Now the story of Rizpah normally doesn't get a

whole lot of air time in sermons.  Hers is a sad, 

difficult and painful story.   In fact, in my

54 years, I do not recall ever having heard a

sermon about her.  So her story really got my attention,

and began to resonate on many different levels.

Rizpah exhibits a depth of love as she mourns and

grieves the unjust and untimely death of her two sons,

that puts everything else happening in the story into

 perspective.  Once the painting was complete, I went 

on to do more reading about Rizpah.  British Rabbi, 

Jonathan Magonet describes her as "every mother who

 sees her sons killed before their time for reasons of state, 

be they in time of peace or in war.  All that remains is for

 her to preserve the dignity of their memory and live 

on to bear witness and call to account the rulers of

 the world."  I also learned that Alfred Lord Tennyson

 wrote a poem entitled, "Rizpah," which reads in part:

"Flesh of my flesh was gone, 

But bone of my bone was left - 

I stole them all from the lawyer - 

and will you call it a theft? 

 My baby, my bones, that had sucked me, 

the bones that had laughed and had cried.

Theirs?  O no! they are mine - 

not theirs - 

they had moved in my side."

"Love Does" by Stacy Wills
(22" x 22" acrylic on watercolor paper)

I chose to name it, "Love Does," because that is the title
 of the sermon by Pastor Jon Stone of Renovatus Church
that I was listening to online which inspired the final
direction the painting took.  When all seems lost, and
   no one knows what else there is to do...Love does.