beauty

Vestiges: Flora

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Collected from among the flotsam and jetsam washed up along the shoreline. There are surprising things that gather after the frayed edges of winter wear off but these things belong there. Of course I’ve taken them out of context because I like the surprises I get when I look at things in that way. In a sense I compare these little studies to doing sketches between paintings, really looking.
I love the diversity. The roots systems. The texture and character. The delicate veins that weave things together. The same things that weave us together.











All images © Karen McRae

In A Fog

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In my mind I am here, on the breakwater. The lonesome sound of seagulls overhead, thick fog and the early promise of a warm day. Shades of grey enveloping me like an old friend. A thermos of coffee beside me and ancient boulders beneath. Connected.

All images © Karen McRae

Breaking Open

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Maybe it’s because I spent the majority of my childhood growing up beside a river, but the river runs through me the way it runs through the city. Like a lifeblood. It pulls me to it. I almost feel like apologizing but I can’t. So here we are again…

It is breaking open. There are places where the rapids keep the water open all winter. But I am drawn to the wide open spaces. The distances. The possibilities.
Especially when it is grey. Or snowing. Or raining.

I could show you that the snow has gone. That rapid changes have been taking place on land. But the river responds slowly and, at the moment, I am on river time.

All images © Karen McRae

Winter is Coming Unstitched

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Winter is coming unstitched,
Frayed threads of cold loosening a tentative hold.
The fabric of winter sifts into the earth, flows into the cavities,
The pulse of the city quickens beneath your feet.
A sound of sweet release that catches in your throat, and floods your heart.
Time skips a quick beat, moving forward, a gentle breath on the cheek.
Winter is coming unstitched.





All images © Karen McRae

Current Events

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In the same way the wind carves out the snowdrifts the current is carving away at the belly of the river ice. I wonder how it would look turned upside down. Would it be etched full of channels and rippled ridges or glassy and smooth? I imagine running my hand over the cold surface. Connecting with the texture. Perhaps I need to pick up my paintbrush. Do something more tactile.

This seems to be my visual response to reading the news today. Thinking quietly “out loud”. That feeling of helplessness like a small current of energy vibrating inside that you’re not sure what to do with.
My initial response is to throw some beauty to the wind and hope it lands on someone who needs it…a thin lifeline.

All images © Karen McRae