Amelia

When I paint into sky it is the culmination of what was and what is to become that engages me. In all these years of sky-painting, Joni Mitchell’s words to ‘Amelia’ still resonate in my heart and mind.

March, Remains of the Day

oil/wax on canvas

18x30in, 2011

available

This is painted on a surface that was primed fairly thickly with molten beeswax and dammar resin. I smoothed it by burning in with heat, then, when cool, polished to harden it. I make my own cold wax medium to control the consistency and purity—using eco-friendly turps, beeswax, and linseed /stand oil of varying strengths. I will polish the painting when it is completely dry to give it a luminous glow and add more depth. I have a hard time photographing encaustic work or work painted with cold wax anyway, so I do it prior to this final process, trying to cut down on the ___glare! I am not too happy with the colours and digital noise on this image so looks like I will have to re-shoot regardless.

On an inspiring note I saw a red-winged blackbird today! Yay! And I’m so jazzed that we have more light in our days—things are good

*keep reading for poem and video

Amelia

I was driving across the burning desert

When I spotted six jet planes

Leaving six white vapor trails across the bleak terrain

It was the hexagram of the heavens

It was the strings of my guitar

Amelia, it was just a false alarm

The drone of flying engines

Is a song so wild and blue

It scrambles time and seasons if it gets thru to you

Then your life becomes a travelogue

Of picture-post-card-charms

Amelia, it was just a false alarm

People will tell you where they’ve gone

They’ll tell you where to go

But till you get there yourself you never really know

Where some have found their paradise

Other’s just come to harm

Oh amelia, it was just a false alarm

I wish that he was here tonight

It’s so hard to obey

His sad request of me to kindly stay away

So this is how I hide the hurt

As the road leads cursed and charmed

I tell amelia, it was just a false alarm

A ghost of aviation

She was swallowed by the sky

Or by the sea, like me she had a dream to fly

Like icarus ascending

On beautiful foolish arms

Amelia, it was just a false alarm

Maybe I’ve never really loved

I guess that is the truth

I’ve spent my whole life in clouds at icy altitude

And looking down on everything

I crashed into his arms

Amelia, it was just a false alarm

I pulled into the cactus tree motel

To shower off the dust

And I slept on the strange pillows of my wanderlust

I dreamed of 747s

Over geometric farms

Dreams, amelia, dreams and false alarms

Joni Mitchell

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