Paintings from the inner soul

When my daughter, an art student, took me, through the tree-laden hills and dales of Lakeview, to meet her quot;guruquot;, I had not im...

When my daughter, an art student, took me, through the tree-laden hills and dales of Lakeview, to meet her quot;guruquot;, I had not imagined that I would be face to face with a Native American. As a schoolboy, a long time ago, I had read about Red Indians. In Hollywood movies, I had seen them as fierce fighters. No one here calls them quot;Red Indianquot; any more. They are known as Native Americans.

Anyway, there was Darlyne Paulsen on the steps of her enchanting studio, her small eyes sparkling, her face radiating utter friendliness, her smile a loving stroke of welcome. Inside the studio was sheer magic. What I saw was not just the work of a skilled painter. It was more a world within a world! It was the world of a dreamer, a cosmic dreamer. And she led us into her magic kingdom, with freedom and a rare charm. There was a mystique about her environment.

The central hall was full of large-sized paintings: one of them was called Torrents in Summer. The painting was of thick, dark woods. Darlyne asked me to see it from a distance.

As I stood there, gazing, I perceived, hidden within the entwined woods, snakes and frogs and a whole animal kingdom. But you can see it all only if you open your inward eye, as the poet Wordsworth did when he saw in daffodils the quot;bliss of solitudequot;. This painting won the first prize in a national competition and received an honourable mention at an international competition in Paris.

We moved into another hall. There were two paintings that drew me, as if I was a small pinhead drawn to a magnet. One was that of a man, dancing in a whirlpool of light and shade, somewhere in midair. quot;Tandav Nritya?quot; I said to myself. She saw the wonder on my face, and said: quot;It8217;s the Cosmic Dance!quot; Another piece was that of a man, almost flashing across the canvass like lightning. It was luminous, glorious, captivating. quot;Lasya Nritya of Parvatiquot;, I reflected. Something from which we have derived our own raas-leela.

We went down into the basement. On the stairs I saw a big beautiful cat: I touched her velvet soft body, and how she responded! Unforgettable encounters, that, with a world larger than humans! Stepping out in her garden, with a tiny fountain and a tall tree, I told her that the trees talk to me. quot;They talk to me, tooquot; she responded, quot;I have done meditation, under one.quot;

She led us to her sculptures, her amazing woodwork, and her nude paintings, of exquisite aesthetics. Such is the tender touch of her brush and paint. We moved on to her corner for portraits. Her father on a plough on a farm by the hills; her two daughters, and her grandchildren. And she, as a child, combing the gray, flowing hair of her own grandmother, whom she described as quot;My guruquot;!

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The painting I admired most was, however, the portrayal of a child playing on a violin. She looks like a fairy child, more delicate than a lily, floating in the midst of some divine flowers, violet, white, green and brown. A russet sky provides an astonishing background. It is like a divine melody. The painting was called quot;Tuningquot;.

quot;Whose portrait is that, Darlyne?quot; I asked the painter. quot;My daughter, Pamela, as a childquot;, she replied, adding softly, quot;She was born deaf. But Nature compensates in mysterious ways!quot;

As we took her leave, Darlyne gave me a copy of Pamela8217;s mystical portrait. It is autographed by the artist with two eternal words: quot;with Lovequot;: a gift we shall cherish forever.

The author may be contacted through e-mail at: ashprintgte.net