Expectations

Before Christmas, when I was a little girl, in a tiny little village in Norway inland – midst the tight woods – dark evenings with stars and snow upon…. expectation – Christmas Eve is so far away. I believe nobody could be as impatient as me…  I counted days, many times a day. Christmas never comes!
My Mother was making new cloths to me and to the rest of the family. I remember especially one dress; red with a chequered wowen pattern, wide collar with a velvet ribbon, the skirt was plisse and reached beyond my knees. Usually only ladies had these long dresses at that time, so I felt  quite important…
The dress was so nice, but it was a big scar: It was woollen,  and it was terrily itching; I was longing to put iot on, because I liked to dress up, and this was more than ‘sunday nice’. But always some hampering the joy, sensitive child skin did not correspond to itching wool! Oh, what problems we had…in the fifties…..

Find small dimples
in your dailydays
creap into one
and feel how warm it is

‘Living stones’ sails out….

0,78 square metre white paper…..44 day….. and then the rock was recreated. ‘Living stones’ the title showed up to be. Small and big and bigger challenges has been on the way. If I am content with the picture? Am I happy completing it? It feels strange and empty, I miss it……it was safe to go to my studio and know fairly well what the day’s work would be about. In my head I am already half way up to the mountain ‘Storehesten’ (the big horse). …..have ‘climbed’ it before , so this time it will be through another route… that hasn’t been climbed before ….. with a watercolour. And another time of the year.Exiting? That word does not cover; it is a quivering feeling, the same as always at starting a new mountain climbing…..

To get to know a friend
is like climb a mountain
Show respect for the mountain
listen to the signs of it
follow the cracks and traces
One might shiver at the chasms
back out at steep short
courage and willpower is needed to reach the top
One needs climbing knowhow
to be a friend

Orchid in the night

Night orchid is one of few wild orchids in Norway. She is not often seen. It is rare, seldom seen, exotic! It grew on ‘my rock’. Now the rock is gone, and so is the orchid. Now it is only living in the watercolour, and of course, in my Memoir Book. The Night violet is shining like a star in the night. Coming close to it, you notice a powerful perfume odour; she attracks night-flying moths to help with the pollination. Nature is full of wisdom; ‘Look at the lilies on the field…..’

Life
is a thousand 
of golden moments
One of them
is now

The crayons box

The word has its own sound in my mind; it gives associations to warm summer’s days, blossoming fields, Christmas Eve with candles and stars…… A life with no colours is impossible. I would have got abstinent without the daily colour palette. I remember every ‘first day of school’ … best from the ’empty’ timetable where we were writing neatly every subject in their squares. It was a sacred time when The Teacher read up: First lesson: Bible knowledge….. Second lesson: Norwegian….. very much similar from year to year, but every time as thrillingly exiting….. and then: New crayons! ‘KEMA’ was the brand; eight  different colours. They lay elegantly on corrugated cardboard from white and the whole spectre towards black…  Glorious colours for joyous children. The only annoying was the lack of colour for human skin. White was useless! But otherwise the schooldays were happy! Our teacher loved drawing and painting, he himself, so he gave us many possibilities to use the crayons in other subjects than the specific drawing lessons. The most magnificent present I got in my childhood, was a Derventer crayon box with 24 different colour pencils…. and one of them was a skin coloured one! Oh you blessedness!

Your day is here and now
Is it grey
colour it with intuition and brilliance
Is the day light
store the light for heavy days
Is the day cold
get warmth from the sun beams of Yesterday
In every day is hidden
a shaft of light

The edge of the roadside hides big secrets , just bow down a little…..

The Birdsfoot trefoil impresses me! She fears nothing. She grows in locations where  you would not believe she could survive: In the road ditches she lights up in brilliantly yellow, somtimes she creeps underneath the wide mantle of Lady Mary, but mostly she is quite unprotected. She dears to go over on to  the road itself. You little silly trusty thing! She is  exposed both to man’s boot and car’s wheel. She is not far behind the Dandelion in strength and courage. Being so bright and beautiful she is nearly a danger for the traffic. But don’t tell the Road authorities, then they come with some chemicals….

Modest
but not shy
is she – this little Tiril

.. and we go out to meet the Day
wondering of small wonders..

..I wish us all a good day..

The watercolour is climbing, together with me, and slowly, but steadily, we’re getting there…..

To belong to, to be part of a wider context, is good and important. For me the watercolour is part of life. In the watercolour lies many words, some without connection, some go together into a meaningfulness. A story. About life and days, nature and all small and less small gifts from nature, big experiences and less big ones. 

From where do I get inspiration?
– from mind and thought
from your open eyes
from a child’s laughter and wonderful wondering
from a warm touch of a friend’s hand
from tear from eyes and dew on leaves
from speaking flowers and shining stones

Inspiration is just another word
for hard work
with joy

The waiting, together with many, give a new dimension to the day.

Much interesting might come out of vaiting in a queue. We hae got a shared goal, which joins us together in a special way. We know what we have ahead – we wanted to see Edvard Munch. But what we did not know, was whether our expectations would be fulfilled, a common feeling of uncertainty.  So there is a shared, common feeling lying over the whole queue this clear bright autumn day in October, but we all knew, for certain, deep inside, that we would go out richer from the experience.
And we were together, it happened to us all – that very same while! I believe that Åsmund, my daughter’s 12 year old son – when he gets to his ‘old days’ – will recollect this day and say to himself with a smile: «I went to ‘Munch 150’ together with Mamma, Aunt Veslemøy, Arthur and Mormor (Grandma). That was something of an experience!

We should do more of that king here in the world!

Holy days and every days

the everyday clothing
becomes holiday clothing
with happiness
over small things in life 

The queen of Foxgloves!

Never had I seen foxgloves until I moved to Vest Norway. Now, after 40 years, they are part of my summer. The white version, ‘Digitalis grandiflora’, for me stands like a queen among the foxgloves. She is noble and sheer, tender and delicate. She keeps herself a little away from her mates, but she holds herself not too fine as to growing in cracks and clefts, or alongside a road, where the soil is poor. We can all take learning from her.
She pours down goods, like drops from a hidden well, deep inside, that is her symbolic secret.

Drops

Water drops
rain drops
tear drops
dew drops
many small drops

the water drop cleans the body
the rain drop nourishes grass and flowers
the tear drop cleans the soul
the dew drop purifies the mind
drops for life 

Thornroses

Reflextions on the rock that disappeared

You get used to seeing your neighbours – every day. They become part of your life. I am happy for good neighbourship. This summer I had to say goodbye to a good neighbour: The rock that disappeared our of my sight and my life. It was simply detonated away, bit for bit. All the flowers thar grew alongside the wall, in cracks and at the roadside underneath and beautifyed my day, are gone. Now they are only part of my inner sight. The mourning process led me into a new watercolour painting. Every day a new part of my little mountain will be restored, and I so much want to share with you, My hope is that when te painting is finished, the mountain will be real again! It is a long, long way…

Whatever we are up to
let the heart be in it
then the deed will be
significant and clear and true