can’t wait

February 25, 2016
by Karen Phillips Curran
It is a wintry day and getting to that time of winter when thoughts of spring appear in my mind, unbidden. I have several of my paintings depicting spring here in the house, that can trigger it. The bright blue light of a mid-winter day outside is blinding in contrast to the warm enfolding colours of spring. My patience wanes as the weather intimidates us with its burden of, yet again, more fresh fallen snow and ice. It has actually been a relatively easy winter, and I am not overly burdened with the need to drive in it on a daily basis as, now, I have no “job”. For me, my irritability at winter’s overstay, is predicated by the fact that I usually spend time painting in Bermuda in the winter. It is my favourite time to go there, I love the light, the balmy air and the vacant beaches, the vibrant winter exhibit schedules and seeing all the long time art buddies I have nurtured there over the years. I’ll miss them this winter. But I rest assured I will see them again one day. So I remind myself to be patient, that spring will appear soon. The maple bush […]
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                                                                                                         Wherever I am I paint, draw and see….I am setting a new studio space in a place far from home. Love drives me there, is my motivation, that, and a thirst for new experiences, new visions, new warmth, new trust, new work….
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Perfect

February 28, 2012
by Karen Phillips Curran
This morning I wanted the world to end, or at least to stop, to be put on hold….I awakened in my new quarters in Bermuda, the cottage of a friend of mine. I had never been inside. Its quiet. Soft. The sun streamed in through the sheers and bird song was the only “noise”. Just stop it all here, this is it, perfect. I’d made myself a hot, fresh, french press coffee in the delightful kitchen, and had snuggled back into bed under the, riot of colour, duvet. The room is spare, painted all in whites. She dropped off her front door key to me the day before, just as she was on her way to the airport. It is an old fashioned skeleton key for an old fashioned “cottage” in St Davids, old Bermuda. The pastoral feel of the area is a delight. Twisting, steep roads find their way back and forth to the sea. Fields of freesia, casurina trees and oleander bushes speak to the wind. Meanwhile, Kiskadees screech and feral chickens stutter and cluck. Its easy to get lost, and I did. As I stood in one place, endeavouring to regain my calm in the face of that,and decide which way to turn, the […]
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