A Visual Feast in Winter

Ice and snow cover all familiar paths letting me walk over underbrush and thorny vines into places that were inaccessible to me in summer. One step after another and I find myself in the woods with unfamiliar trees all around me. Old scenes that had become tasteless now satisfy my hunger for bright and dark rhythms to fill up my horizons.

With cold fingers I open my sketchbook and pull a pencil across a page starting the feast that my eyes hunger for. Many hatchings and shapings later, I follow my footsteps back to the house cold, numb, but sated.