Dreams from the past
I’m walking on the path in my childhood dream. I gaze the meadow, hidden by the dark in the shadows. I set down my heals first, it sounds less. Grandpa proceeds more slowly until he standstill. He points and I follow the direction of his finger with my eyes. That’s where I see him. The Hare. Lively and constantly moving, pursued for all time but always strong and irrepressible. Forever threatened but always cheerful. I see the bird of prey as a perception in the sky, quietly guarding the earth below. Hunting. The throbbing and silent heart of a deer, who standstill in front of me, considering the next move. And the little birds that sit still while they are in motion. Idling. Thin lines that winds along the branches. They sing without words.
All art work is made with oil on canvas if nothing else is said.