Flurries 11

About the Peacock

Woodglue,  denatured alcohol, mineral spirits, Japanese Q-Tips, turpentine, kerosine, graphite dust, carborundum grit #50, tusche, white gouache, Windex, tissue box, small clamps, cotton squares ripped from a Kaiser shirt, lampblack oil, small Chinese saucers, tape, Post-it notes, turning table, magnifying glass, small levigator, Scott toilet roll, Japanese sharpeners, Gilbert pencils, alligator brush rest, Dawn, semi-gloss polyurethane, paper roll, distilled water, box with pens and pencils, large screwdriver to stir, sanding paper, rulers, tray with erasers, X-Acto-knife, mechanical pencils. Formica scraps, painters' tape.

This is the inventory of my working table during my Waking Hours series, May 9, 2023. Compared to the weightless medium of the poets, artists are weighted down by matter, by the physical demands of their creations.

Like peacocks that must grow wings strong enough to take to the skies with that heavy tail, artists must be grounded and down-to-earth, and yet be messengers capable of suggesting flight and a soaring soul.

This is the task of the artist, as it is of the alchemist:

To spiritualize the world of matter

and

to materialize the world of the spirit