Watching Me Watching (new painting + poetic musings from the journal)

Watching Me Watching (mixed media painting on canvas by Hali Karla) Watching Me Watching (mixed media painting on canvas by Hali Karla)

Watching Me Watching (mixed media painting on canvas by Hali Karla)

Watching Me Watching (mixed media painting on canvas by Hali Karla)

Watching Me Watching (mixed media painting on canvas by Hali Karla)

"Watching me Watching (something you can't see by looking)"

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My approach for this canvas was to take an old painting and paint over it - coming to the canvas freely, like I would an art journal spread.

There can be such a difference in how we approach our art-making, depending on the substrate (or environment) where we apply our vision and touch... safe in a book or journal that closes as part of a process, or stretched out to be displayed and take up space for viewing.

Both can feel precious. Either can be taken way too seriously for anything good to come of it.

When we move closer toward our essence, the edges that separate our posture toward one or the other blur. The process is both precious and not, inclined equally toward what is deep and what feels playful. I am curious about how we move between these sorts of perspectives, and what becomes when pretense and even intention are forgotten in the revealing movement of color and line.

•••

reflections from a journal entry while painting this one:

i remembered today that i used to write poetry for you

back when word-colors felt enough to spark love unconditionally, curious

somewhere along the way i started writing explanations instead, of me to you of you to me

and for watchers who might mistake what happens when love changes forms like water in the desert

i sense there was a heart-break along the way a moment when love-drenched poetics oozed out, becoming desperate, doubting droplets in the high-noon rays of having said too much

or not enough

and my world has been thirsty and rationed ever since

i have forgotten to drink not-just-a-little but plenty from the spring within that cannot be undone in its infinite mystery

but i remembered in my body today... that water shifts shapes and finds her way in air, earth and even fire

to quench the seeds calling

and that she must change to be all she can be to love what she loves

i remembered today that my beloved does not care who withdraws or watches on looking for reason

there is no need for explanation when poetry is given room to breathe wild, as water is life

 

{Do you write or journal while you paint or directly after, too?}