WaterWorks
There is a creek that runs through the land I call home. It has a life powerful and strong and then it whispers and finally sleeps. As I watch the creek in winter the water pushes forward with its powerful momentum. The water is high and purges what ever is in its path until it is drowned or thrown to the side. Nothing is left untouched. Tall trees are sometimes toppled after years of enduring the creek's relentless force. Then as quickly as the creek has become the harlot of the land it softens and quiets and makes love to the sun.There is just a quiet rippling of light and shadow. The creek is alive and must find its path to be all it can be. Then it slows and finally the last bit of moisture is swallowed by the sands of the creek bed. To view the creek through all seasons and to see the creek move with the impetus of nature, it is hard to believe it will slow and disappear into the earth. The ebb and flow of the creek is what I have painted.
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