The Edge
- Robert Creeley
Place it,
make the space
of it. Yellow,
that was a time.
He saw the stain of love
was upon the world,
a selvage, a faint
after edge of color, fading
at the edge of the world,
the edge beyond that edge.
- Robert Creeley
Place it,
make the space
of it. Yellow,
that was a time.
He saw the stain of love
was upon the world,
a selvage, a faint
after edge of color, fading
at the edge of the world,
the edge beyond that edge.
Last week, at Estudio Nomada where I am teaching art & ways of being, we made ink from natural and foraged ingredients. Oak galls, blueberries, charcoal made from vines, rusty nails. And a bright yellow from turmeric. I hope to do some foraging at CACiS and preserve the colours from the place to be used in drawings, on paper or on fabrics. On skin maybe. Or maybe just return it to nature, displace it, replace it, pour it over rocks, colour the sand, let the river take it.
