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of Lorianne Karney
and Saints and Lovers

 

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Her current projects include ...

I have never been one to sit by in idleness. Even in observing the world, my mind is always categorizing, moving through the scenarios as they unfurl, or watching the shape and shifting of the light and the motion as an image takes form. There is this constancy of birth; newness arrives each moment and the changes are a symphony to the senses. I am in love with the process. I am in love with evolution. I am drawn to the song of the spiral as the spiral calls out from my cells, from my own blood.

If not for the changes, where would we be? Each new beginning takes form uniquely, wrought in potential and only hinting at what might be. Yet the voyage of form from one moment to the next belies the static fallacies of what we call manifest, what we have determined to be firm and real. I am not as I was just before. I am in this moment, now. I am here, now.

The beauty of the blank page is that it truly can be anything. There is no plan, there is only the potential of limitless expression. We take the task into hand, and make a mark. It is now one thing. We make another mark. What was once one thing is now another.

All creation has a life of its own, a force and guidance from which it draws, and if we are wise, as creators, we open to it and allow it to become itself as we experience the energy through our own form. You cannot force a story. It will tell you exactly where it wants to go.

My ideas have always come from many and varied places. A lot of times, an image will come into my head, and I will build an entire story around that single image. I often write from the end backwards. I know exactly where the story wants to go, and now I need to chart the map to get there.

Still, no matter how changed the voyager is from riding down the alpha to the omega, we cannot reach anywhere without crossing all the space that lies between.

Here are some projects that are still in the works. These are the visions before the eyes focus them into light.

The Taroad

The Versicolor Child of My Youth




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