ArtWrite 10/6: Mary Brenneman

It’s all I want to look at right now. Uncomplicated beauty.

Except I can’t help complicating it. I can’t be passive. Back and forth I go between the paint and the pencil.

I magnify the image so I can go deeper into the petals, the pistils and the stamen. The ring of rose in the white one, the faint explosion of purple at the top. How many colors to achieve one color? How did she know when enough was enough?

Those loosely drawn rectangles with the dots in the center that give the bowl dimension: how did she know not to close them? The scratchy lines on the right: I don’t even know what they are, and I don’t care because I love them, and they belong there.

It just feels so loose and spontaneous. So utterly confident.

Me? I backspace, cut and paste, change words, check my email, add commas, delete. I think it’s time to go back to writing by hand.

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