maintained, sustained

Andrew Wyeth The Carry, 2003 tempera on panel

It may seem pastoral of me, but I've always been, and continue to be, fed by Andrew Wyeth's work. His attention to the myriad quieter details of the natural and man-made world strike me like poet Wendell Berry's. Both men seem to have a priestly quality of observation that takes in both the pain and the glory of the world as-is. They both come out shining, but not before being burnished and ground by grit.

A recent post by a fellow blogger alerted me to the fact that Wyeth is not only still alive but still painting. The above image (which may disappear, even though I'm lauding it, because it was a bit protected) is one of his newer, and I'm astounded at its clarity and earthy beauty. It gives me hope that as an artist, you can continue to pursue a vision into old age and have it actually deepen and lengthen. Someone once said that there are no painting prodigies-- you can usually sense the youth behind mark-making-- no matter how elegant. Not sure if I agree whole-heartedly, but I would like to think that there's something to be said for the aging process as it feeds into the work of our hands.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry