The shaft of light peeking onto his wall was so enchanting that he had to figure out how to get more. Cause and effect began a curious quest and the little guy, reaching hard, figured out how to manipulate the shade in his room.
“Look! You can see it too!” His eyes say, what he does not yet have words for. We shared this discovery again and again, watching how the shaft of light on the wall would grow. The joy in this did not get old. It wont get old, I don’t think, for such is a touch into transcendence. There is something sublime about the entrance of light into dark corners. It has to come into, from somewhere else. And as it grows, it changes the entire space; it changes us! It is a sign. It is a gift. And what enchanted me most was how much the littlest among us can know this, can take in the simple joy of it, reveling that there is someone else to lock eyes with in such a discovery. These things are best shared, and why, I wonder, is that?
I am in the North country where Spring comes late. I am far from my studio. But my eyes too are locking onto the hints of light falling onto the fallow ground. It almost seems to me that the ground here is so ready, ready after such a long winter to soak in the rays. From day to day the buds are responding quickly, the colors are getting magically more saturated. It is really compelling; it moves me in deep places. Light, dark, and some kind of movement are of course important basic elements in any visual work. To me, and to this little guy, they are more than compositional constructs. This is discovery!