procession, my artist's text

Maybe some day I will know the names of all the palazzi
on the canals of this ephemeral place, this mythic city,
somehow floating in time and space.

For now I can only imagine and dream anout lives lived
on this watery firmanent as I observe and wander.

Venice has inspired many: artists, poets, writers.
They have all left their imprint, their footsteps,
now invisible.

Each time I journey to Venice I am seduced.
Venice is as fragile as glass. An appartition.

What is it about la serenissima that continues to inspire so many:
the light, the water, the reflections, the narrow mysterious vicoli,
the rhythm of riding the vaporetti?

The light changes as the fog rolls in, acqua alta, the water rises.
Always a melancholy mood hangs in the air.
Always I feel a connection to the elements: stars, dampness, the smell of coffee.
My interior space.

I stand in the Piazza San Marco. I cannot absorb its fragile beauty in one lifetime.

procession

field of flax

inside rooms

always to dream

louis XIV dreamed big dreams...

once upon a time in paris...versailles

a quote

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body's been.
Mark Strand

residue

a secret

response

A bouquet of tangled wildflowers,
tiny seahells in a bird's nest,
empty glass canning jars,
silence and peeling wallpaper and
the residue of so much emotion
in this weathered wooden house
on a hill, filled with radiant light
and vanished dreams,
the black horse wandering lost,
the apples ripe on the ground.
EMZ

flower girl

imagining turner

out of time

i have an exhibition, a solo, at art mur, the gallery in montreal
where i have been exhibiting over the last ten years,
beginning in january 2011.
my first solo in two years.
already i am printing, testing images, thinking about what i will show.
thinking about the images themselves, their mood, their scale.
what they are showing, saying.
what i want to convey.
weaving together a narrative of moments.
it is not an easy process.
it is a painful process, filled with self-doubt, with questions.
out of time.

in thought

conversation

transition

end of beauty...statement

end of beauty...
the magnolia blossoms on the tree where the young woman reads,
wrapped in a towel in the early morning sun, every morning at breakfast,
last only a few days and then became brown and bruised.
the creamy white waxy blossoms disappearing,

end of beauty (continued from february 3, 2010, below)

end of beauty

chateau des alpilles

end of beauty

so long ago, so far away

amaryllis

absence

simone martini?

orchard

her