This naming of this painting did not come “like a conversation between two lovers,” as the name of my last painting did. The one came suddenly, serendipitously, like a gift.
While pondering what to call this painting, I opened a post by the Humble Fabulist and saw this whimsical painting by Rothko, and it’s equally whimsical naming. I fell in love with the name. “Slow swirl at the Edge of the Sea.”
Having had such a long romance with the sea, it conjured up all sorts of ideas and images that I immediately wanted to paint, a whole series, I thought.
But then I glimpsed my unnamed painting waiting so patiently there, propped on top a bookcase, leaning against a wall.
In another post writing about the process of painting it I wrote:
In the end, this piece reminds me of the night sky, with its swirling galaxies, shooting stars, and so on. Although intentionally, as hat wasn’t what I had started out to create, I think my love for the night sky, that mystery and romance, was expressed here subconsciously.
All that deep blue and turquoise and swirling motion still makes me think of deep space, the edge of the universe, the end of time, and how in reality there is no “edge,” no “end” to any of it. The thought of that “endlessness” seems to swirl around and around in our minds because we cannot quite grasp the fact of it.
So I knew then what the painting was trying to tell me, and so named it.
But the idea of a series of paintings about the sea, the ocean, remains. About what it brings up out of me, the gifts it lays at our feet, the ease its motion gives our eyes, our bodies, our minds. It’s unfathomable depths and expanses. It’s hidden treasures.
I’m keen to see what this idea will bring forth.