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The Sibyl #6

by Christopher Moeller

When the Sufi poet whirled, was he looking
outward, to the mountains so solidly there
in a white-capped ring, or was he looking

to the center of everything: the seed, the egg, the idea
that was also there,
beautiful as a thumb
curved and touching the finger, tenderly,
little love-ring,

as he whirled,
oh jug of breath,
in the garden of dust?

-Mary Oliver, from “Where Does the Dance Begin, Where Does It End?”
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For twenty-six years I used my art to build imaginary worlds, populated by fantastic creatures. More recently, my desire for invented worlds has given way, unexpectedly, to a love affair with this world. I am experimenting with new approaches, both in terms of subject matter and craft. I am developing my instinct for authenticity... for things with real power. I find myself drawn to landscapes, both outward and internal, that feel real. My paintings document a slow, often frustrating, recommitment to the fundamentals of art, and a reconnection to the human experience.