The memory of trees

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Overpainting that became the underpainting. Sep 2, 2015

Overpainting that became the underpainting.
Sep 2, 2015

I had forgotten and in my forgetfulness did not realize how much I was missing, how much the lack of its presence was impacting my daily living.

And then, I stepped in front of the canvas. I stood and breathed and held myself in that space where time floats away and all that is left is the moment now, the moment of creation.

I had forgotten.

That moment where I become one with being present, one with the moment, one with the muse.

And then, I let go my fear and found myself in that place where in fear’s presence love flowed fearlessly into my being part of its flow.

And I remembered.

I remembered the joy, the bliss, the grace of letting go of fear and surrendering to the muse calling me to create.

The memory of trees are buried in the roots deep beneath our feet. September 9, 2015 Mixed Media Louise Gallagher

The memory of trees are buried in the roots deep beneath our feet.
September 9, 2015
Mixed Media
Louise Gallagher

And in my remembering, I fell.

Into the art of creating for the sheer joy of creating. For the utter bliss of being one with the paint flowing, the canvas calling, the brush strokes appearing effortlessly, fluidly, simply.

I fell

and became part of the flow

one with the muse

all in

in Love.

 

 

 

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