Milo, aged 2 1/2

I bought some new watercolours last night, White Night brand, think they are Russian, and am well impressed with them. They were reasonably priced, and are professional quality whole pan paints, with rich colours and highly pigmented.

White Nights watercolour paints, whole pans.

Anyhow, I was inspired to paint this portrait of my son, aged 2 1/2. pencil and watercolour on A4 Aquafine paper.

Milo, aged 2 1/2

Strange

Strange

I must be strange.
That weird girl.
Covid raging,
people dying.
Maybe I shut out
the reality.
Maybe my eyes
see only the beauty
in the world,
when I should weep
and mourn
the ugliness.
But how can I
bear to paint
black
that which sets
free my soul,
as I bask in
the light?
My ears may
not hear the cries
of trauma,
but my soul does,
and I paint them
silent,
and pen them into
translucent echoes.

I must be strange.
That weird girl.
Covid raging,
people dying.
Maybe I shut out
the reality.
Maybe my heart
sees only the goodness
in the world,
when I should pray
and cry for
the desperation.
But how can I
bear to sing
in rhythms of dissonance,
that which sets
free my heart,
as I dance in
the light.
My soul may not
dance with
demons,
but my mind
sees,
and I shut my eyes
and paint the pictures
and write the words
and live in
my kaleidoscope bubble.

Sarah Drury. 2021

Tsunami

I have been drawing for around 4 or 5 weeks now, and enjoy it so much. My soul gets completely absorbed. I can concentrate for hours, when normally I can only concentrate for an hour at the most, when I’m watching TV or a film.

Here’s a poem:

When I put my pastels
to my paper
I get lost
in a vortex of fervour
Colours cascade from my
feisty fingers
Chroma hints
Pigmentation lingers
Cut like a diamond
dripping indulgence
on a distinguished rapper
I am rapt

Dazzling, decadent, daring
My mind dissolves
into a technicolour maelstrom
Splash of red, hint of blue
Unbridled passion sways from
these unostentatious hands
Difficult to believe
the ebb and flow from
my whirlwind mind
of shifting sands
I am a palette of tsunami
A riot of imagination

My gleeful tools
worship my paper
Making love
to the beguiling texture
of this creative emotion
A passionate mixture
Cherishing inception
with religious devotion
Trading my soul
for an effigy
Igniting the cognition
of self-expressive perception

Every stroke of colour
that blesses the canvas
is a spiritual atonement
And the completion
is an act of contrition
And I lose myself

©2020 Sarah Drury