Sunday, March 16, 2014

Sneak peek of a new painting, and a look back...

I'm starting a new painting! Always nice to get my brushes in the paint, and especially when it's on canvas, for myself. (Although I have to say I am in the mural-mindset... feels weird to use such little brushes, and I'm squeezing out WAY more paint than I'm needing) Anyway, here's the start:

It's a new painting that will be part of this Madagascar series (about my Peace Corps experience there, in case you are brand new to my blog and haven't heard me mention that a thousand times!). This one is based on the Malagasy proverb: "Tsihy be lambanana ny ambanilanitra", which basically means, "everything under the sky is woven together like one big mat." I love that.
I felt caught between two worlds a lot. It's the old metphor they teach you during Peace Corps training. They say that before Peace Corps, you see everything out of yellow glasses lenses. Then you go to your host country, where they see out of blue ones. By the time you're out of Peace Corps, you end up seeing through green ones for the rest of your life (cuz they mix together. color theory and stuff. right?). Anyway, sometimes I feel so far removed from how I lived there and my friends that are still there that I have no way of contacting. This painting is kinda about trying to feel connected to that still... hence the Portland cityscape that's starting to come together on the left, and my village I lived in on the right. We'll see...long way to go yet, but I'll show you when it's done. Painting this tonight has got me all sentimental and listening to my Malagasy music playlists and reading through old journals for inspiration. Found one from St. Patrick's Day, 4 years ago:

"Happy St. Patricks' Day! Wishing I had a big green Guiness to celebrate with right about now. Yesterday was a good day. Lori fell asleep laying her head on my lap at Silvio's party, which went late into the night. The moon was already high in the sky, shedding blue light onto everything, the petrol lamps shining yellow light in pools. Warmth. Lori's heavy, sleepy head on my leg, her little body curled around my knee. In this light, my skin didn't glow, and give me away as different. Not tonight. Not dancing and clapping and singing... tonight I am just a person in the dark. To Lori, I am still just Kori, just "Mama", Soa Vanona (my Malagasy name), her friend."

1 comment:

  1. Corie I meant to write about this post earlier. It means so much more when you add excerpts like this from your journal. I know it means lots to me now that I have been to the village and have met Lori, but I also think it means a lot to anyone else as well. The images conveyed by your thoughtful journal abbout Lori sleeping and the pools of light are very well done. I think you should always include a journal excerpt when you mention Mada