NM Paintings 2020 > Aftermath to Advent to Aftermath ...

Aftermath to Advent to Aftermath - Winds Across the Teleprompter of the Future
ink, acrylic, and tempera on paper
34" x 48"
December 2020
Aftermath to Advent to Aftermath - Unfurling and Doors to the Past
ink, acrylic, and tempera on paper
27.5" x 38"
December 2020
detail - Aftermath to Advent to Aftermath - Unfurled and Doors of the Past
ink, acrylic, and tempera on paper
27.5" x 38"
December 2020
Aftermath to Advent to Aftermath - Hidden in Plain Sight
ink, acrylic, and tempera on paper
38" x 27.5"
December 2020
detail - Aftermath to Advent to Aftermath - Hidden in Plain Sight
ink, acrylic, and tempera on paper
38" x 27.5"
December 2020
detail - Study for Aftermath to Advent to Aftermath
ink, acrylic, and tempera on paper
24" x 18"
December 2020

I

We watch the seasons roll by like the clouds crossing the wide sky here on the plateau near Santa Fe, 7000 feet above sea level and surrounded by mountains. As Summer faded and the golden aspens flashed their Autumn color scattering across these same mountains, Winter stood in the wings to our north preparing Autumn’s annual aftermath and readying itself for its onslaught of cold air, ice, and snow. Eventually Winter’s shortened daylight begins to increase with Spring’s advent.

II

This year the entire world is waiting for the aftermath of the pandemic, and here in America, we are awaiting the advent of the Biden Presidency and all the potential that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris will bring to our beleaguered country in the aftermath of four years of the Trump regime. A vaccine is promised as well, so the world may eventually survive Covid 19, and the pandemic’s aftermath will lead to, one hopes, an advent of health, sharing, and a prosperity that might for once be extended far beyond its historic frameworks thus far. A great deal depends on our willingness as human beings to begin to readdress the way we exist on this fragile
planet.

III

Noah’s Raven {WS Merwin}

Why should I have returned?
My knowledge would not fit into theirs.
I found untouched the desert of the unknown,
Big enough for my feet. It is my home.
It is always beyond them. The future
Splits the present with the echo of my voice.
Hoarse with fulfilment, I never made promises.

IV

THEOLOGY, POETRY {Czeslaw Milosz}

What is deepest and most deeply felt in life, the transitoriness of human beings, illness, death, the vanity of opinions and convictions, cannot be expressed in the language of theology, which for centuries has responded by turning our perfectly rounded balls, easy to roll but impenetrable. Twentieth century poetry, or what is most essential in it, gathers data on the ultimate in the human condition and elaborates, to handle the data, a language which may or may not be used by theology.