Rocks In The Sky

Although I don't know how Colin McCahon would have felt about it, sometimes I see his paintings as prompts to meditation. I can get lost in front of a McCahon - sucked in, drawn out, pulled away, lifted up - in a way that I haven't found any other New Zealand artist can do for me. Sometimes - 'Are there not twelve hours of daylight', 'A grain of wheat', 'The Lark's Song (a poem by Matire Kereama)' - it's the play and tension between the words themselves and the painted form that capture me. Sometimes it's the scumbled horizon - 'Blind V', 'As there is a constant flow of light we are born into the pure land' - that binds me in. Sometimes it's simply the titles - Rocks in the sky, Angels in bed, Necessary Protection - that lead me away. But there's a power and a mystery to all these works that leaves me pitched for long, long moments in a kind of contemplation that perfectly balances sadness and hope.