"Lord of Fish (Matsyendranath)"
14"x17" watercolor paints, water color pencil, acrylic and ink on paper.
This particular piece was really a pleasant surprise for me! It started off as a simple doodle on a page ... then I got my hands on some watercolor pencils and worked organically from there. I'll have to get a better photo at some point, as the paper was particularly wrinkled when I shot this!
Reflecting on those "patterns" of living I used to write about all the time, I found another one while working on this piece. The biggest epiphany I had actually took place while I was reading Yoga Beyond Belief by Ganga White, and I stumbled across a passage that told the legend of Matsyendranath, the first Hatha yogi. As the god Siva was showing his wife the 840,000 different yoga asanas, she fell asleep; it disheartened Siva, but then he noticed a fish in a nearby lake who was watching intently. Siva turned the fish into a man who then, if I'm not mistaken, went on to teach the various different poses of yoga.
At first, I thought it was ironic that I'd begun drawing a fish just before reading the passage. I kept the name in mind and then took a trip to Google where I looked up the fish pose that was named for him (Ardha Matsyendrasana). Right away, I recognized a similarity between the position in the photos and the way my fish was drawn out.
All of that constituted a very technical epiphany, if you catch my drift. As I continued to work, there were various other thoughts that came to mind ... I reflected on the notion of listening and how sometimes the people you'd least expect to hear you actually do so -- what's more interesting is when they retain quite a bit of information, or when they act upon what they've heard.
"I don't know".... I think that statement is otherwise sufficient for how this piece came to be. I don't know what the object in the middle is, but I do know it was meant to be there. I don't know what the fish seas, or why it's not in the water ... it's all probably related to the fact that I don't even know how I feel most days!
There's also a sort of quiet melancholy to what I do, and I think it's subduction is usually the result of color vibrancy. What I mean is, if this were done in black and white, it would no doubt lose hope for any alternative interpretations -- they exist partly because of color inclusion. There is no such thing as a drab circumstance, no matter how you look at it. There's beauty in presence and absence, chaos and simplicity, life and death, etcetera, and beyond that, there's beauty in everything that contradicts.