Under Moroccan Skies

It’s the last full day of painting here in Morocco.

One more day to hit the frustration wall and then let go. My best work came after I was ready to fling the panel into the palm grove and say enough. That’s what these intensive workshops are meant to do. To not care about the results opens the way to fluidity and freedom.

I’m at the point where principles of design, value and color are in place and I can trust myself. Very similar to how I can read music. I’ve done it for so long I’m no longer reading the notes. I see a dot on the staff and instinctively I know where it is on the keyboard and how to play the note. That’s a visual connection.

Perhaps painting is more like soloing where you have to know the “tune” before you can improvise on the structure.

This week I’ve been firming up the structure for soloing.

I’m noticing in the Moroccan design and architecture the viewer is hit with a bold presence. Huge carved, wooden doors open to a keyhole entryway. Bedroom walls are dappled. Berber carpets of pomegranate red, lime green and black punctuate the floors. Behind the boldness is detail that becomes more intricate as you come closer. Faucets are etched in design. Toilet paper covers are even decorated. Key elements of changing size, color and design create the energy. A place to inhabit forever.