This is a painting about joy. About uplift. About climbing out of a chaos, and finding clarity, finding your way. And then — and THEN! listening for your better angels, and spreading your wings. Remember Walking Into the Storm with Arms Open Wide? This is climbing out...
musings from the studio and beyond ~
dawn chandler’s reflections on art and life. . . .
mixed media collage
celebrating grace ~ they lift me ~ crane painting, vii
There are several quiet conversations going on in this painting. Between the coral figure and the blue figure; Between the large cranes and the small cranes; Between the people and the cranes; I think they're all taking about flying. Don't those wings just lift you?...
celebrating grace ~ mysterious figure revealed ~ crane painting, vi
Perhaps it’s time now to reveal this mysterious figure who keeps appearing in these, my crane paintings. That figure is my mother. My mother, who grew up in New England, married my father, who grew up in New Jersey. They met in college and were...
celebrating grace: their return brings song ~ crane painting, v
Their return brings song to my heart. Indeed. As you read this I’ll be packing up to return to the Bosque del Apache, to witness sunset tonight with the cranes and geese. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll return there a few hours later for...
walking into the storm with arms open wide ~ crane painting, iv
That thing you've been avoiding? That thing you've been putting off, 'been skirting around? That thing you don't want to do is the thing you have to do. That thing you fear? Time to face it. Do it. Do it now. Go walk into that storm with your arms open wide. ...
celebrating grace: their wings fill my heart with prayer ~ crane painting, iii
There are so many layers beneath this painting…. so many ways it came in and out of being. So many hidden shapes, hidden colors. But that spirit figure… see her? She remained throughout. She wouldn’t be hidden by the layers. Always she was there. Always she is...
revealing the open pages of my wallet
It’s all in a book, a little bigger than my palm. When I shared The Book with an acquaintance, her voice fell silent as she slowly turned and considered the pages. “I feel,” she said in a near whisper, carefully turning each page . . . ...