Incarnation, c1985, 30 x 50cms, oil on canvas.

XI. Incarnation (of Phare-woman

There was abstraction then. It was at first a reassuring inhabitation of powdery panels evoking a soft obliquity of light and an incipient cypress garden, possibly where a Fra Angelico angel had laid the seed of something more than geometry, a rebel organic to show that, yes, a coming’s sown in every wind, je sème à tout vent say the French disseminators of beautiful lexicons, nothing’s as asemic as it seems, all sows and seams your dream episodes.

There is an illumination through these lighthouse beams – ô les phares – yes Baudelaire was here too along with Phare Woman, and radiant, the cypress bears the glow. Albinified, it comes now in gradation, throwing forth red ochres, an ache of ochres, saying something is borne, winged, labially so and labile, a flesh flower, for what, for nothing – pour rien – for the futile joy of a blooming sensate buttonhole, a white sportscoat and a pink –

It’s the advent of adventure though, of the adventitious. It’s the incarnation of always something beyond. Your aporia’s always porous to event. And see now where the light streams frankly in. Where space becomes abode. The carnation is not as yet quite on site but its annunciation is profiled here.

It has another destiny in the random kingdom of Farwoman. An aleatory trajectory, you might say, this refusal to incarnate wholly your idea.

You might also say it all bodes well – that her art jubilates beyond all frames.