The Prayer
Three of us stand with canvases and easels in my friend's tiny home. Her plush black cat looks on with ancient wisdom shining behind her benevolent and mildly curious gaze. A stool in the corner holds brushes and paints. I have never painted before. Not on canvas. We begin with a story and a journey. And we begin with a prayer. Which writes itself in charcoal on my canvas. We drum the canvas and we bathe it in rose water to invite the prayer in.
Did I mention? It is the feast day of Guadalupe.
The Vision
I see her in my mind's eye. She fills the cosmos. She is woven into the fabric of the universe. She is so big, I can only see her face and shoulders. She is too big for me to see all of her.
The Painting
Over the prayer, the painting begins to emerge. The face takes on shape from the prayer and the rayos, the corona around her, takes on a color I did not expect. The Roses explode from her dress in all directions, merging with the cosmos. And her hair...most surprising of all to me...her hair is white.
The painting is not finished yet, but I will have an opportunity in the coming week to continue working with it.
In these 7 weeks, I have had been forming a relationship with the painting and with Blessed Mother.
The Dream
I see the path before me. It is a woodland trail with plants overgrowing on both sides, so I can barely see my feet as I walk. Even so, the narrow path is visible. The trail ends at a rough arched wooden doorway.
The thought comes into my mind, "Oh, this is Blessed Mother's house."
I don't know how I know that. It is part of the vision. Part of the dream.
I turn and walk away. It is enough for me to know it's there.
It is after that dream that my house becomes Her house.
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| Feast Day of Guadalupe 2015 unfinished painting by Rita Tortorello |
