— Denise Levertov

This poem by Denise Levertov struck me for the new year. It reminds me that no matter our circumstance, some presence can make itself felt, and this is all the confirmation that is needed to make the world new.

A certain day became a presence to me;
there it was, confronting me—a sky, air, light:
a being. And before it started to descend
from the height of noon, it leaned over
and struck my shoulder as if with
the flat of a sword, granting me
honor and a task. The day's blow
rang out, metallic—or it was I, a bell awakened,
and what I heard was my whole self
saying and singing what it knew: I can.

— Denise Levertov, Variations on a Theme of Rilke  (The Book of Hours, Book I, Poem I, Stanza I)

Wherever I find myself in 2024, it is always possible, and even hopeful, to begin again, to feed the unuttered seeds born in darkness. January is a time when the eventual blossoming of these seeds is nourished by turning inward. There is that phrase in the Levertov poem about being given an honor and a task. Even if I don’t know what this means, I can begin with something that matters. Something that matters meaning simply something that matters to me alone. On the morning of January 1, on our first venture out into the world in the new year, my husband and I saw a pair of barred owls. I felt it as an auspicious sighting, and surprise often includes delight. Someone may say oh a pair of owls means this, but the meaning is reserved for the receiver, it is not an external abstract thing.

There is enthusiasm inherent in beginnings. I am starting a new series of paintings. My way with painting, not knowing ahead of time what it will be, having to find what wants to come as I put down texture and color, is slow. This morning I thought of my meeting with the painter, Jonas Burgert, last summer in Berlin. His studio compound was immense and powerful— more overwhelming than a museum, where there is more space between things. (See images of his work in my June post). You enter his compound through enormous gates that open in response to a buzzer, and are covered in graffiti:

*Entrance to Jonas Burgert’s compound in Berlin, Germany.*

There were several rooms with paintings perhaps twenty feet long, and another room with an eight foot table covered with tubes of oil paint. But the room that most intrigued me was filled with scraps of copy paper, magazines, newspaper clips, photos and notes plastered to the wall and covering the floor. He explained that this was his inspiration room, that he began a painting by writing. In the process of writing he would discover titles for the paintings. He said that often this is how he begins a painting; with the title.

*Jonas Burgert in his studio “inspiration room”.*

I keep an ongoing list of possible painting titles in the back of my paper calendar. But my most recent list, the one that had the titles I most liked, did not make it into my new calendar, and has disappeared. I will try to re-create it: The Heft of the Fervent, An Unbroken Field With Outbreaks of Blue, A Room Called Remember. A couple of the paintings have already begun: I took another title from my list, The Testimony of Her Green, and began the painting below:

*The Testimony of Her Green —* painting in process, oil on wood, 12” x 12” © Laurie Doctor

Mixing green paint onto this discarded canvas, starting with a title for direction, made me forget about myself, made me happy.
The title for the painting below came at the end, several paintings and much time later:

*What Are You Waiting For?* Oil and wax on wood, 12” x 12” © Laurie Doctor

And so I am beginning again, and I want to give each of you a grain of hope. For yourself and for this world. This will be the theme of my new online class — Grain of Hope: Artful Techniques for Details. It will begin on the first day of spring, March 19, 2024. The next post will have more details.

What beginnings have you found for this new year? Are you experimenting with new ways of working? Do you have another title for “What Are You Waiting For? I’d love to hear from you.