Dark Sunflowers

At the edge of the cornfield that I pass every day
a long line of sunflowers has been growing all season.

Now they are dried and dark,
their heavy heads bending over.

The stark shapes catch my eye
and I feel that drawing tug for the first time in months.

But I wait. It's cold and windy.
Sitting out in a big field by a noisy road is not that appealing.

Then the weather warms a little and I nudge myself to venture forth -
to face the sunflowers - and the page.

I park the car on the side of the road, sit inside, and draw the whole line first.
Cars whoosh by, rocking me each time with their force.

I get out of the car, cross the road and walk down the line studying the shapes.
The farmer who lives nearby shows up, wondering what I'm doing out there.
We chat about the sunflowers and the weather and he reminds me that hunting season
starts in two days. Probably best not to be sitting out in a field at that point . . .
He leaves and I sit down next to the bending stalks.

I come back the next day for one more visit before the hunters show up.
The wind has died down, the rustling is almost imperceptible now.
The sunflowers are like sentinels with life rushing by unaware.
The leaves tremble slightly, the stalks shift back and forth.
It's lonely - just me and the stark sunflower world.

Back in the studio I paint in the dark tones of stalks and leaves loosely.
My loneliness softens.

Then I begin to trace the sunflower face I had carried back from the field.
Now I am the rushing world, moving too fast to see a sunflower.

I pause, start again. It's impossible to track the intersecting spirals . . .

Guinea Sketchbook / Part Three

Here are the third group of sketchbook images from my trip last February.
(see Part One and Part Two )

First a map of Conakry, the capital of Guinea, where we spent most of our time.
It doesn't show the incredible density of life that fills this narrow peninsula.

You can see that the house we were staying in was RIGHT NEXT to the airport.
The landing of the big Air France plane each afternoon was something you noticed !
And the new house that Pam and Mimo are having built was along the mangrove waters.
We walked over there often to assess the progress.

Some days we drove into the center of the city to shop, visit friends, and change money.
We traveled along the main Autoroute. Life lined this road fully
and surprised me each time with what was encountered . . .
what was offered through the car windows as we passed by . . .
what struck my eye as unique, or odd, or poignant . . .

The pressure to perform well - in dance class - in the sketchbook - is with me.
I carry it inside and suffer with it.
In this slowed down world of low accomplishment and daily circular tasks,
my worries stand out, tied to this effort. Yet I feel myself drifting - all effort futile. . .
Sitting now with the sadness - and toughness - and beauty of this Guinea world.

On the last day I make watercolor cards and write notes in French to the family, friends,
and teachers I have connected with here.

We have one more dance class and it isn't about perfection - just joy and appreciation and love.
I hand out the cards to everyone and we cry and laugh and sit together, looking out.
While everyone rests before lunch I go out back and paint the big palm tree in the yard.
I'm feeling loose and bold and relaxed.

Here it is - the core strong - the fronds dancing - moving - alive.

On the way to the airport we pass small clusters of people - men, women, children -
just sitting together quietly - looking out . . .

And here we are - the Guinea women - all of us !

Mariama            Djeli Kany         me        Mayeni     Mary    Djeli Guinee     Pam        Dorothy