I am consumed by a burning desire to paint with fire, lite my works and watch them curl, see the radiance of flames dancing on pyre . The heat urges me on grabbing yet onother piece of paper placing a burning iron upon pigment searing the surface, sizzling sounds grind the pigments into it's surface marking it as a new found memory. Heated iron burns the hand that holds it, molten pigment runs down the fingers piercing them with pain, the stench of flesh can be detected, flaking pigment and flesh pull away as one.
Paper after paper is grabbed in a mad frenzy to contitune as fire is raging, no longer do the fingers feel the pain, nor does the olfactory sense the burnt flesh, the eyes catch glimmers of pigment as they coo,l the inner being that is called soul is captured in rapture by what fire has brought forth into creation by it's raging force upon this human source of power.
This creator is driven by desire (fire) to heat up it's inner source of natural creativity, which there is no escape until it places paper beneath it's digits to burn and grind pigment, the optical sense of arousel occurs as an abstract scene appears.
A woman consumed by passion not of her own but one that encompasses her inner being not controlling but guiding her into a world of reality where color and form project a reality more real than what her 6 senses can describe.
