Gate to High Lonesome

"Gate to High Lonesome," 15" by 22" watercolor, 300 lb. d'Arches cold press

Our lives are journeys and we pass through many gates, sometimes aware and others without even realizing it at the time. 
While others may be part of us, we pass through those gates alone really, a present tense individual traveling. 
I've wondered why gates of all kinds are a recurring theme for me, why they beckon. As I grow older, I'm more aware of those gates, those people and events and decisions that shape my life.
For me, "Gate to High Lonesome" is that metaphor in a life, in a country where solitude reigns, and the future is obscured around the next bend, or through the next gate.

Gate to High Lonesome --Christmas

Christmas dreams, watercolor card

High Lonesome is mythic in the West, as in my mind is the gate to this remote, faraway place, as mythic and calling as Christmas. What a place to be snowed in with a loved one, to stay warm by the fire, to laugh, read, dream, reflect by the light of a kerosene lantern. Outside, high chill mountain air, the stars so bright you can see forever, the only sound the howl of wolves or cry of big cats hunting. High and Lonesome, and at peace.

Fire in the belly, watercolor and poetry

Fire in  the belly,  6 by 6 watercolor, handmade India paper

I didn't know what was inside me to paint today, until I came across a poem. Years ago, a blogger and poet I met somehow online, K. Lawson Gilbert of Pennsylvania responded to a painting of mine.
Her poetry struck chords with me, and some of my paintings with this school teacher and word artist. She doesn't blog much, like most folks, because life is life, and we creative types run in spurts, I think. But to be stunned with imagery, you should read her poetry on her blog, Old Mossy Moon.
One of her poems appears on Coffee with Clark's  homepage, under an abstract painting of mine "Silence" which she entitled, "Meditation"
She also wrote about my snow scene "High Lonesome," a title and theme I have adopted from my Dad's art and my love for the wide-open remote West.
And one of the short poems she wrote about that cabin scene was this:
       "Out on the plains,
       the snow piled up.
       But inside the cabin,
       the two were warm...
       words were their clothes -
       their bodies a language
        of poetry and prose."

If that doesn't  awaken your senses, I don't know what will. Here's the 2009 painting that inspired the poem, and the blog link: High Lonesome
So finding that poem today, here's what I painted tonight--I hope it does justice to the poem.
There are two stages to the painting before the one you see above. Know, I didn't know what would come next.
Reminds me of Jim Morrison, and "Fire in the Belly." It just happened, and that's exciting. Don't ask me to explain.
For those of you who wonder, here's the story of the finished painting, in two steps:

 

Beckoning to High Lonesome

Gate to High Lonesome--watercolor, 8 1/2 by 9, handmade Indian paper

High Lonesome calls, where there are skies, and far vistas.
 All you have to do is unhook the gate, and follow the faint trail. Ahead is silence, space, sensual overload. The gate isn't locked, but waiting for you to take the first step. 
Amazing how a perceived barrier can waken you, as with this painting, the eighth in as many days..