First Light

Here I am, bright and early! It's 5 am, first light is bringing out the grey outlines of red brick buildings, making them a grey-blue brown. This is a special moment for me always, when nature begins to waken while many are still toasty in their beds. Gives me a feeling of new beginnings, peace, hope and a sense of wonder.

Early morning memory: I'm six. Picture wide-eyed golden blond-turning brown and sun-kissed. Ok, my eyes aren't so wide at this moment because it's early... and I'm wearing a heavy cotton night gown. Probably one of the red, green, and white ones that we got every Christmas, only it's Spring. I'm in this magical farm house that has a stairway to nowhere if you open the closet door. Looking out the window, everything is covered in dew, the grass is a grey-green, the barn in front that same grey-blue brown, only a bit more reddish, I think. There is the goat house on my left, light-grey in this light because it's white. Definitely I'm not quite awake, and a bit afraid because I've woken up in a strange place after being in my own bed the nite before. My stomach does a few flip flops. I must hurry because the day has begun for my uncle who has begun his chores, which we will accompany him in today. But just for a few seconds, I have this moment, while my sister is not quite awake in bed, looking out the window at a new beginning, the unknown, and the experience is thrilling in calm way, like a slow gathering hummmm....

This is the moment I like to begin painting in. I wake early in the morning and rush to the studio, just to keep this feeling. The world is a bit more awake by the time I get there, but not yet in its full speed. I think of moms packing lunches in brown bags and kids sleepily forcing their limbs to dress, brush teeth and grab school bags. Actually, this is just background music. Things are still fairly quiet and I don't yet have to plug in my music box. I can spend a few moments contemplating the previous days work, seeing what needs improving, what needs developing, feeling my space take me in, recognize me and envelope my spirit. It's been waiting and it enlarges me. The first stroke, no, the idea of the first stroke, is intimidating. Once there though, time is erased and there is only seeing and unfolding what I see on the canvas. This is why I come to the studio. This is why I get up early. This is why I breathe, breathe in this moment, as morning light spills out touching everything, bringing color, definition, life, a resurrection of all that was lost in slumber in the night. Begin.