The Wind on the Island
The wind is a horse:
hear how he runs
through the sea, through the sky.
He wants to take me: listen
how he crosses this world
to come take me away.
Hide me in your arms
just for this night,
while the rain breaks
its infinite beak
on the earth and sea.
Listen how the wind
comes galloping, calling
to take me far away.
With your forehead upon my forehead,
with your mouth upon my mouth,
our bodies bound
by the love that burns us,
let the wind pass over,
let it pass me by.
Let the wind rush in
crowned with foam,
let it call and come find me
as it gallops through the shadows,
while I, who lie submerged
in your big, deep eyes,
just for this night,
I will rest, my love.
Pablo Neruda
Tararua Range as Ocean
acrylic on paper, 47x52”
Clouds, mist, mountain ranges and rolling hills all flow together- the “Landscape” as continual movement and tides of the ocean.
The rich growth and lush greens of New Zealand’s rainy winter emulates the greens of the ocean. The pitted hills create a visual rhythm the leads you into the mountains beyond. The heavy mists and fog of the sky toy with the space between Heaven and Earth. This piece is a visual dance.
Looking Out from Te Mata Peak (Rays of Sunshine) , acrylic on paper, 40x47"
Acrylic on paper, 40x47”
Looking Out from Te Mata Peak, NZ
There is a visual quality of liquid in the mountains and hills, as if they may alter shape at any moment, move to their own tides, flow away as you blink. A long drive through hypnotically repetitive and symmetrical hills of Hawke’s Bay cements this idea of hills as water. On that hottest of days.. I spend only enough time by the oceanside to map out a way to a mountain. I make it to the top of Te Mata Peak and look out over another type of ocean, one of stone, soil and sand...crashing waves, rolling tides frozen in the hills but alive just the same.