Two illustrations to go along side a poem by my good friend Britney McCullough for the Uvic TruVic Education Cohorts Gallery Walk In Victoria BC. Taking her words and applying pictures to them. Fun project.
It's okay to feel dead in a city of pulses,
To hear the ocean call your name from miles and miles away
Pulling you from a place where you have overstayed
You want to change the world
But remain stuck looking within,
Watching the space between your rib cage expand and contract,
Sometimes creating just enough room for a hummingbird to fly out and escape for the mountains.
Your voice is just becoming, always in genesis, tempered and vehement in between its cracks,
you want to step on every one just to see what will happen.
You really get to know yourself when you leave everything else behind.
The air is crisp and poignant on this quiet night.
I inhale the death of another season;
The familiar decay of rotting brown and yellow leaves.
The new silence (which is never silent anymore) is liberating
And my heart still chirps louder than the street trafic and is wiser than to believe the rush they think they're in.
Tonight, like many nights I am alone. My mother isn't here to comfort me,
her little bird fell from the nest long ago
And tonight, there isn't a lover to console me,
Love is a vulture I left in the past, flying a wobbly V in a vulnerable sky,
A consummate scavenger, picking clean the countryside one bite of its sharply hooked bill at a time.
My voice is growing in the depths where secrets are kept whispers are heard
On the pages sur face
we learn to feel and listen to the spaces between words
The space that reminds us that it's okay to feel dead on an island of pulses
And that being lonley and being alone are two very different things.
Detail Shots
11x17 Finals
