"Thresholds give, stars disorient," says the poem. It is a French poem, and I've had to do the work of translating to find the beauty. It is my way of trying to learn the language, and I feel so small in the face of my goal. A language feels endless, especially before you develop basic fluency.
So I must be patient, build layer upon layer, feel my way. It is the same with these pictures that visit me half-formed in the night. I have to take time to discover them once I sit down with paper and pastel. I feel afraid at every step, unsure of how to get where I'm going. Or how I will know when I've arrived.
The world feels upside down, constellations I knew flee the sky. I'm working in the abstract, something I've not done before. Drawing is no longer realism; it is simply color, form, movement. I turn the page and draw from different directions.
I don't know how I'll end. A feeling just comes at last, "It is finished." The threshold gives. And I lay my paper down.
Universe in pastels, by L.L. Barkat.
On a totally fun note, I just won a lovely t-shirt for posting to welcome InCourage. Out of over 200 entries! The stars are smiling and so am I.