Wail of a Magpie

I had been lucky to survive — but I didn’t know if I would ever stand tall again.
Outside the open windows, magpies sang their mournful song.
I was crying, and they cried with me.

Days turned into weeks. Gradually, I began to regain strength. I was able to paint again.
Paintings that had lived only in my mind started to make their way onto canvas.
New materials — staples, metal, press studs — found their way into my work.

I was in Finland, recovering in my mother’s care.
And truly — what ailment isn’t eased by a mother’s embrace?
It was there that Wail of a Magpie #1 was born.

Acrylic paint, mixed with tears instead of water.
Staples and nails, pressed in frustration.
Painted with the raw touch of my fingers.