Atmospheres

Atmospheres

		*If you live in South Florida, you watch the sky.* *Stay for the tropical summers and you’ll see water take a sublime journey aloft, unfolding into a brilliant sculptural display.* After years of observation, I have captured these images into a collection of atmospheric paintings. Both realistic and ethereal, the clouds entering and exiting these works may have many meanings or none. *I like to see the sky as a metaphor for the mind, in the way that thoughts drift through our consciousness. Goals are created, ideas blossom, our picture of us changes.* *Where do thoughts come from? Origin is elusive. Still we embrace them, dubious background and all, clinging to our opinions, our ideas and our dreams.* *We try to make them concrete, even though they are no more substantial or permanent than the vaporous clouds drifting through a summer sky.*

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			Bahamian Noon 60 x 72" Oil on Linen 2000 Private Collection New York, NY

			Yellow Sky 60 x 72" Oil on Linen 2004 Private Collection Virginia

Our great struggle is like wrestling with clouds -No wonder it is so difficult. Is it the depth of our illusion? The impression of solidity? Or is it the conviction to the clinging? Small Petals of Orange, Music from Mali. She enters the room and casts a glance this way and that. Why the sunrise that shade of rose? Who mastered it’s conceiving? Arrows pointing this way and that Which way to turn? A casual aside, A mildly cast anecdote And a lingering dis-satisfaction That might normally be easily satisfied. Or not Not ever. An eternity or right now. On a page, Not ever and right now may be placed right next to each other. It’s like wrestling with clouds. How solid the struggle when there is much conviction to the holding... “There, there child. Daddy’s here.” “Everything will be alright.” “Now, You can rest now.” “Rest”
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			One Wish 60 x 72" Oil on Linen 2003

Now set free from the confines of this paradise hermitage, I walk along the shore to find a place to sit, And listen to the sea kiss the sand and, Tell the shore of where it has been. It will tell of great creatures, Of the pressured depths, the vast darkness, the icy suspension, And the sublime journeys aloft, High in brother sky, Cool and shining, Bright as truth.

			Biscayne Moonrise 60 x 72" Oil on Linen 2004 Private Collection New York, NY

			Florida Cloudburst 60 x 40" Oil on Canvas 2000 Private Collection New York, NY
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			Entering the Bay 58 x 38" Oil on Linen 2007 Private Collection Ft. Lauderdale, FL

While you were sleeping, I lifted the paddle high, catching a tiny silk line connected to a spider It took time for the paddle to return to the water. So brother spider cast out the line far beyond what was possible, And drifted away on the winds. While you were sleeping, Water came from his mouth and he turned, Rolled on the surface and disappeared under the boat. The furniture rearranged, rocks took flight, worlds came and went Buildings melted like butter, like lead like quicksilver. While you were sleeping, The newborn came forth breaking on the shore and filling the air with salty warmth Holding the breath that no one would recover, a lonely girl stands In the wind of a thousand lifetimes, blossom petals flutter past her face Golden and crimson in the retiring sun. I will take to the air, she said, on wings of hope and longing Come with me and sing of the multitudes, of the 10,000 things, of the Mahamudra Nestled squarely on the cupped hands of past and future We found a bird’s nest to curl up in And cuddle among the dry sea oats, marl and guano. The sun set the sky alight, and diamonds cascaded off the paddle. A precious constant schooled and pedigreed in the universe Coming and going, coming and going Repeating a sound that echoed off the distant clouds and into the blossoming sky evermore, A siren of one voice, A past of dreams. A present of dreams. A future of dreams. While you were sleeping. While you were sleeping. While you were sleeping.

	Catalogue and Prints available

All images are copyright © of Mark Rutkowski All rights reserved.
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