24x48 Mixed Media on Wood Panel
The Muse comes as a Dancer. When the night grows still and the energy of the day has begun to ebb. The Dancer appears to artists, scientists, children and poets. She comes softly or wildly as fits her mood. Like an old friend she comes, dancing across thoughts and dreams. Fleeting glimpses of the eternal flow in her invisible wake, like ripples upon a still pond.
She comes, bearing the hidden secrets of all things. Praise her, curse her, adore her or despise her, as you will, but, ignore her, Never! The Dancer comes easily, but departs absolutely, from those who ignore the abundance of her gifts. To those foolish enough to ignore the Dancer, the memory of Her voice echoes in the brain, as a taunting reminder of what might have been.
Like the wee folk of the Isles, She is drawn by candlelight, warm tea, quiet moments, and abrasive visionaries with powerful passions. The Dancer slips in invisibly, happily, and silently, bringing with Her, the thoughts and dreams of others, distant in time or space. She is a jealous lover, but the most passionate and pleasing of all.
Courting the Muse
Each evening, an invisible web of artists, musicians, writers, scientists and performers gather. Some are oblivious to the presence of the others, no matter. They work at their own tasks dilligently, methodically and with much love for their craft. Each awaiting the appearance of the dancer . . . . each aware She may not appear. The Dancer will not be summoned, She moves at Her own will. Night passes, blessing the devotees of the Dancer with small successes and insights. Some retire to their beds, discouraged, while others continue, moving with the familiar rhythms of their task.