Sometimes I  glimpse  a warm moment, and as is the nature of moments, it passes sooooo  quickly. As  strange as it might sound, I feel that capturing the moment is more satisfying  than being in the moment. Whenever I’m in the moment, if I’m not absolutely paying attention, I miss a lot. There are always so many things that can and do happen in any given moment. This brother has a snuggle, the dog barks and you cut your finger at the sink. As an artist, I love looking for  that  slice of time which tells the  story I want to tell in the way I want to tell it.

The painting holds the moment forever. I love this. The photo is clinical. It is artificial in it’s exactness. The camera must include all. It cannot isolate or be selective in it’s seeing. On the other hand, my hand trembles sometimes, my line is inacurate, my hand shows how I felt when I made the lines.The painting reveals the event and the attitude of the artist. I can change the feel of the story by pressing hard with my charcoal, or I can make it smokey and vague. The drawing is greater than the camera for emotion, for if I paint them sixteen times,  each rendering must be different. My hand is incapable of exact replication.
In real time if you blink you may miss seeing the kiss, but there is no fear of that here. We have time to look and think, and remember, and express gratitude, and be consoled and celebrate.

I have looked at these brothers for a long time. They are together but each  with his own thoughts. Here I am not distracted by the barking dog or the Mom who just cut her finger at the kitchen sink. I  sit and  look at these brothers. I know, and I remember exactly what that moment feels like. I have been there. It’s gentle isn’t it?  When I look at them I am transported. I am the one who touches. In the midst of the hurriedness of living, there  are moments like these.

For all who choose to gather beautiful art like flowers from a garden and place them all around you and within in you, I know that you know why it matters.