A preview of my new series of encaustic vessels titled IRIS series #1. Encaustic is a medium made of beeswax and tree resin. The IRIS series consists of fourteen vessels and will be available...
Despite the stubborn nature and technical refusal of the word "October" to be deleted from the heading to the right , it is November 2020. Some things, like people, just refuse to behave.
Since writing last month, foremost on my mind has been the loss of my brother-in-law and close friend Paul. He died in a memory care unit several weeks back of which he was once the medical director himself. We'd been friends since we were twenty. In addition to Kathy's losing her beloved brother in this long process of goodbye, a piece of my heart has broken away. Here, on the brink of the holidays, I am reminded of the challenges and losses we can feel at this time of year, particularly in this period of separation, isolation, and social distancing from the people we love and care about.
Standard Time has returned in the past month and with it my yearly puzzlement as to why it isn't 11 o'clock and near bedtime when it is actually only 7. Halloween came and went several weeks back and with children remaining at home, the only masked visitors we had on our porch was a family of raccoons who raided an empty birdfeeder and to compensate tipped over several flower pots - trick or treaters with furry tails. The Covid 19 virus is spreading and following the election there is a joy for some and disappointment for others.
With the return of the rain and cold weather, our projects here on the hill have been getting checked off more slowly than my wishful thinking and the upcoming reunions and traditions of our family and friends, like those of yours, appear on the verge of being tossed into the air by the vulnerabilities of our bodies.
I'm not certain about the thread of these thoughts and experiences. I do know that I am helped and calmed when I write and focus on the smaller details of life rather than the vastness of the larger world, a world over which - unlike a pen, a keyboard, or my hands - I have little control.
In a month defined by the concept of 'gratitude,' if I feel certain of one thing it is that no matter what happens in the chaos of the world, there remains - even in those moments of loss, disappointment, and personal challenge - the possibility that unexpected beauty and magic will drop into our lives. Perhaps this is the thread. By burrowing down, honoring, and in some way sharing our experiences with a respect for your own feelings, not only can we survive the crappy, the unfair, and the painful, but keep open the doors to beauty and wonder - like the dragonfly which recently arrived in our life.
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And, if you have a moment I'd really appreciate your feedback.
All the best!
Fred
"Bridge" Encaustic and coldwax on panel
