%1

First the days, then the twinkle, then the wings, and then the quiet, by R. Sawan White

There is a gentle poetry in R. Sawan White’s work. Her paintings are subtle palimpsests of wax and oil on board, assiduously built up in translucent layers, like foggy breaths on a window smudged with fingerprints. Indeed, the works encourage the viewer to draw exceptionally close to examine them, holding out the promise that their abstract streaks, scratches, and scribbles might belong to some secret script. In the end, their refusal disclose a single, decipherable message—whether pictorially or literally—is their greatest strength.

Passing through

In this uncertain human season,
I sometimes shiver with despair,
And yet today, a cold dark dawn,
A flock of migrants burst through
Mist, winged flames of orange,
Yellows, blue, to set the flowering
Trees alight; warblers, buntings,
Orioles, like prayer flags flying,
They flit and feast, God’s table
Spread for all who come, diverse,
Resplendent, passing through,
This host of pilgrims here–now–
Gone.