Strokes
While each work is like another, they also possess
extraordinary individuality. They are each complete in
themselves, a finished work, a world unto its own, never
to be repeated. Even though there is no intended form,
the relative dimension and composition are universally
recognizable as the right proportions to be something
known. Yes it is a flower, and a bird, or the feather of
a bird, or a landscape seen through the bole of a tree.
But it is also a collection of solitary strokes, laid
down without fret or desire from the artist, with trust
and abandon. Astonishingly, the entire domain of
expression has no rejected strokes, nothing labeled as a
flaw, no part that didn't look right. Individual strokes
are not erased or painted over to be removed. They can't
be, they all show. Every stroke laid down for all this
long effort remains, stark and true, in its purpose of
mere being.
