honey wove the marrow

when the lines disappear, i am not afraid with you 2014 19" x 27 1/8" watercolor, ink, and pastel

This painting contains two characters, one hovering skyward and another anchored to earth. If you look closely, you can see their physical states disappear and reemerge through layered planes of atmosphere and water. His wings never fly him far away from her as she stands in reception of life's amalgamation. Is he guarding her? Is she lifting him up?

The fear of being alone is universal. A life is composed of endless threads that weave us to one another. We seek the palpable, tangible evidence of our bonds. Our souls are nurtured in the gravity of experiencing one another. It is the soft, fleshy grasp of baby's fingers curled around a mother's thumb. It is a kiss. It is the daily grit of each day by a family member's side. Our nature is to clan and cling and fight the elements with one another to stave off the eventuality: separations, parting of ways, graduations, deaths. What was familiar and physical, is lost, and when we lose another, we also lose a part of ourselves. But there is more.

A dear friend of mine passed away several years ago. I recall his wisdom, his travel stories and his... incredible... pauses... while speaking. I always felt so unhurried during our conversations, which usually occurred after we'd bumped into each other on the sidewalk or recognized one another at a busy cafe. He was a humble human, a poet and a hitchhiker who was forever wont for the open road. Before he died, I went to see him in hospice. As I drove there, I became completely overwhelmed. There were so many feelings I wanted to impart before he died. But just as soon as I saw his face, my anxiousness fell away. He was still him, gracious and humble as always... and even then, his assuring long pauses filled the time peacefully where words fell away. I still have several of his journals written from his summers spent on Alaskan fishing boats, and I occasionally take them out to read his warm, candid, keen observations about humanity and the great outdoors. He left behind a compassionate memory of calm respite and careful attention despite a hurried world. This I try to, and do my best to emulate.

When the tangible proofs of another's presence is gone, we can embody the effects of their love as we bravely step into new passages of life and the unknown without them. When we are loved, we are not wholly ever alone again. Their love, a living thing, continues to shape us as we let it. When the lines disappear, their love still lives on through us.

Charmagne Coe is an American surrealist. She creates inner and outer-worldly paintings with watercolor, ink, and pastel. Inherent is a deep respect for the nature of automatism, spirit and contour line. Her work has been included in publications such as Utne Reader, Luxe Interiors + Design, and Creative Quarterly. When she is not working in her little studio, she participates in international exhibitions. She also expresses wild expanses and heart-achy characters in pen and ink.

For more work by Charmagne Coe, check out her page at our Online Sundries site.

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