Me and Raw

jan10aj jan10aj2


I was feeling RAW that day.

There is this bubbling within that happens whenever I move toward a primal curiosity. In my page practice, it shows up as the desire to scribble, rip, tear, mix, layer and layer, un-finish, not give-a-shit.

There is this boiling within of something I'm here to express, that has no native language in words - or if it does, I haven't learned the arrangement and accents yet.

Even in raw, lone-wolf stance, I found my center... or she found me... the place of my most divine mother... you can see the forest belly referenced in a bare tree (or is that a nerve?), and the solid-love of moon-mama who often illuminates her way onto my pages, straight from spirit, breathing life and rhythm.

She asks, What if we peeled back even more of those layers you wear, dear one? What if we drop them on the ground, run with the wind, and forget the weight you carry?

Me and Raw - we're not done yet.


{this page created in response to an amalgamation of some of the first week's prompts in Painting the Feminine}