||dance of the sacred bull||

There is an old memory in this canvas: the bull rising out of the sea foam, the myth of a god who became an animal to cross the water and change the course of a whole civilization. Europa on his back. Crete waiting on the other side. The moment before transformation, when the story hasn’t decided yet what it’s going to become.

I let the raw canvas breathe the way myth does, unbordered, soaking in from the edges. The blues are the Aegean before it has a name for itself. The sienna is the bull’s own heat, still warm-blooded, not yet a god. The red moon whispering that every great crossing costs something.

I feel this new moon deeply. We are planting, seeds underwater, in the dark, in the place feeling lives before it becomes decision. Cancer knows the soft lapping of the waves and the disorienting storms that leave you shipwrecked. So does this painting.

I was  thinking about what it means to be carried somewhere you didn’t choose and to dance anyway.