Wind on the prairie

Breeze and Scarf

 

Merriment is in the air for me recently, all because of that daredevil scarf.  Without any hesitation, she lays herself down on the meadows and on the reed beds.  She lets the hills cradle her arrogantly and sways with the clouds in a gentle dance.  When the wind pushes her up in the air, a light of freedom ensues that allows her to tickle and flirt coyly with the silently standing tress and quickly flee with a giggly laughter.

 

Strolling past the autumn colors in the forest and across the valley where the brook traverses serenely, she may be the image of a scarf of a lady, or the trace of fragrance lingering behind after a lady grazed by, which is the image that I focus on my paintings recently. 

 

I let myself go free beyond the fences by boosting myself in the air when I stroke my brush across the canvas. 

 

The sunlight shining brightly through my studio window after a ferocious downpour is so radiant.  I open the window that I had shut in fear of splashes of rain in my studio and take in a deep breath of moist air after the rain.  It is refreshing.  I want to consume the sweet smell and the breeze in the forest where I enter past the verdant sea of trees.  The ever-present tempestuous emotions and sensitivity within me may be the drive that pushed me to incessantly paint despite the perceived absence of cleverness or prodigious talent in the craft.  The whirling emotions often made me nurse a scar or bleed in pain, but the wave of emotions in my soul was the source of life that hoisted me throughout my trials.  Clouds, breeze, trees, brooks, rain and snow and fog, stars, sunsets, ocean, flowers … each subject captivates me with great energy and enthusiasm.  Then high beams from the automotive behind me abruptly turn my world alight when I decelerate impetuously to take in the beauty of the willow tree swaying to and fro with the breeze.  The sudden emotion enthralls me on my travel along the river bank.

 

How about that bare tree!  The absolute purity of enthusiasm embraced inward and the delicate sprigs skin to the nerves of a sensitive female.  One of my mentors once told me that I would have been a mudang [a Korean shaman] if I hadn’t chosen to paint.  I pondered after giggling about the unexpected wisdom: What an appropriate expression it was!

 

Yes.  It is shinmyung [shamanic excitement].  It is that very shinmyung fueling the shamanic dance on top of the razor-sharp blades[1].  Love is like an echo, when its name is shouted from this side, it always returns as an echo.  Even when love is lost in its return path, love itself is what arouses shinmyung [shamanic excitement].

 

Let’s perform a shamanic dance charged with shinmyung for life, for nature and for love and art!  Sometimes shinmyung will arouse a fever that make one sick in bed, but it is the energy that must be loved!  Let the colorful scarf float away in the breeze to the distance…

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