I’d
like to show three paintings in which I have incorporated Ma,
a Japanese aesthetic principle. Ma
is described as 'an interval in time and/or space', thus referring to
empty spaces, vagueness or abstraction. Empty spaces, in which
nothing seems to happen, are full of possibilities. How do my three
birds deal with Ma in their portraits?
For
my portrait of Magpie, Korea's national bird, I added orange colour
to compensate for a magpie’s black and white plumage. To stay close
to her Korean habitat, I decided to position Magpie on a colourful
and fruit-bearing persimmon branch, heavily laden with pumpkin-shaped
kaki. Magpie is content with her portrait, and so am I.
Setting
up a composition for a portrait of Carrion Crow was a little harder.
Negotiations with this proud and cheeky bird were tough. I talked him
into sitting on a mountain ash branch, but initially he didn't agree
with my decision of pushing him a little to the rear.
'You
are an indigo blue-ivory black bird', I explained by pointing out
that humans don't like black things. I explained that I could trick
humans in loving his plumage by adding the rich palette of colours of
an autumn Mountain Ash.
'This
branch has fresh green, bright orange and deep red, and will charm
viewers in loving your monotonous black feathers. And if I use a
diagonal composition, I can guide the viewer along the branch,
climbing up from deep red, through the bright orange to sap green.
After such a colourful journey, people don't mind a bit of solid
black. But to do that, I told Carrion Crow, I have to push you a
little to one side, but that is okay.
Reluctantly, Carrion Crow agreed.
My
Sparrowhawk demanded to sit high and mighty on the top branch of a
proud pine tree. The world of humans doesn't interest him. He soars
above it, looking down on our wars over oil, mass migration and our
overheated, overpopulated world.
Sparrowhawk
knows he has this intricately textured and awesome coat of feathers,
which makes fashion designers drool. Not much is needed next to such
an eye-catching bird; two almost evenly-coloured pine cones complete
the portrait. Sparrowhawk sat down just long enough for me to make a
portrait, and, without so much as a 'thank-you', flew off to his own
world, soaring high above ours.
Back
to Ma..
In all three bird portraits you’ll notice considerable emptiness.
My birds seem to look into this emptiness. What do they see? A
suitable partner? Prey? Are they guarding their hidden nests? Are
they exploring new horizons? Maybe they are thinking of migrating to
south Wales, where there are towns called Llwynypia (the magpie’s
grove), Cwmbrân (crow valley) and Mountain Ash.
Ma
is for you to fill in with your imagination, with your story-telling,
your ornithological knowledge or poetry. But Ma
can also be left open. We don't need to fill in empty spaces with
projections, trauma, words or sounds. Ma
offers a thinking pause or escape from our train of thoughts.
Magpie,
Carrion Crow and Sparrowhawk understand Ma
naturally. We are enchanted when we see a bird resting on a tree
branch and we long to be like them: resting in Ma,
accepting the here and now.
Paula Kuitenbrouwer at www.mindfuldrawing.com
Text edited and enriched by Gerwyn Moseley.
Prints at Amazon Handmade and Etsy.
