Nance Hart

Walk in the Park, About Painting. The light, it holds steadfast for such a short while, half a day at most, less in off seasons. I work & attempt to make war time peace, a plank of reconciliation with this half life, our life force. Painting can be an aqualung, an attempt at buoyancy while distancing imagined fear and actual loss. Thus allowing the torque of need to ignite my childlike elation at just being, with no self conscious attendant. The attempt: lets call a spade a spade, is to be seen, understood, loved, if only by myself. This act of painting pictures, is to correct the world, while also providing a resting place. Elusive, mean, surprising and quiet, painting shushes the monkey mind, the call to elsewhere, ceases the circling genesis, letting the evening swallows in the closed window.