I read a lot of poetry, and if it doesn’t inspire a painting, it may well inspire a title. Every once in a while I wonder if poetry isn’t just another way of painting.
After all, poetry is deeply felt, savored, and chewed until we can swallow and digest its meaning. Sometimes it takes decades. Either it is a feast and we are satisfied, or it is undercooked, overwritten, and devoid of flavor.
Visual art can be another kind of feast…the kind to be savored, eaten carefully, and digested slowly, for we never know when that upstart (artist) might put pepper in the stew.