Sunrise

Sunrise

©2019 Ruth Borges

24"x24", Acrylic on canvas.

After much experimenting, this one became a crowded tangle of colors and textures. I guess I went a bit too far, again. I tell myself it’s okay. It’s just paint; all part of the process of trying out different combinations of color, movement and texture. The 24”x24” canvas sure looked like it had had enough. If it could speak it would’ve emphatically declared "if you don’t walk away now, I will!" Well, I was ready to walk away anyway. But later I passed by, and out of the blue I chose to cover almost everything in pink, leaving areas of warm yellow and soft whites as the focal point. I continued refining tones throughout the rest of the composition. The dying canvas rose again, transformed into something I never could have imagined or planned. I posted the painting on Instagram. A friend’s comment revealed what the title would be. As I read “Looks like a gorgeous sunrise!”, the last word out of those five stood out as if it had been the only one in her comment.
“Sunrise” it is.

Weeks later, rays streaming from a gorgeous sunset beamed through my west kitchen window, pouring over “Sunrise”, infusing layers of yellow-orange and vibrant pink with a glow so intense, I could hardly take my eyes off of it. I sensed layers of meaning quietly whispering “new beginnings”. And then I remembered the verse in Lamentations 3:22-23 “The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; His mercies begin afresh each morning.” (NLT). I embraced it as God's eternal encouragement underscoring how much I need to remember His goodness every day. I need to write it down on a post it and place it where I can see it every day. Or I can look at this painting. That works too! Better yet, both! I can imagine God chuckling by now.

New beginnings, do-overs, fresh starts. Every day. No matter what. Even if I forget, God sure doesn't. Again and again, His Spirit somehow will remind me, like He did with this painting. I love to experiment with color and composition. It doesn't always work out. It can be very frustrating, especially when I've invested time, effort, and materials. But I've learned to just stop and take a break. Instead of thinking it's ruined (even though that's exactly what it is, genuinely trash can worthy!), I've learned to see it as an opportunity to learn something new, or relearn something I've forgotten. Sometimes, covering the whole thing with a thin translucent layer of paint revives the composition. At others it means scrubbing, scraping, or adding collage elements. I've done that many times too. I just have to ask "what does it need?" Long ago, in art school, I heard an instructor say "the solution is in the problem". A failed composition is not the end. It really is the start of something new, of something I've never would have discovered had I walked away. I love new beginnings. Especially, the redemptive kind;
it truly feels like a glorious "Sunrise”.

Photo taken the afternoon
sunset beams poured over "Sunrise",
October 2019.

Close up view of textured surface