Imagine: you are walking along the beach. In a tidal pool reflecting the day's last light, you discover beautiful shells, larger than any you've encountered before. The wind dies; the only sound is the echo of the ocean from the shells, which sounds like your own heartbeat, or could that be the flapping of wings?
Nature performs magical feats by the millions every minute. But, busy with our private concerns and human interests, we often fail to notice nature's miracles . . . until someone shows us the world anew and wakes us up to the extraordinary quality of ordinary time.
Marcus is an artist who wakes us up. To borrow from literary terms, Marcus’ paintings, provocative and miraculous, are an instance of magical realism. He crafts scenes that defy the rules of the real world and in doing so, reveals a truth about this world we call home, and take for granted. We willingly follow his lead, suspending disbelief because
he creates a reality we only need to be shown to believe in.
"For the hard of hearing you shout, and for the near-blind you draw in large and startling figures," says Flannery O'Connor, a writer whose style anticipated the power of magical realism.
Realistic, accurately rendered elements in fanciful, impossible scenes evoke strong feelings. Through his use of mystery and metaphor, mediating between
reality and imagination, Marcus opens up a world and invites us along on an epic journey.
The invitation is the same invitation issued by Nature, day after day, with her miracles. This winter, wake up to the world revealed anew. The Geminid meteor shower tonight and the Christmas Bird Count are both good ways to jump-start your belief in miracles and join Marcus on a journey which promises to be both very magical and very real.
Written by author Leslee Johnson, this blog chronicles the process of creating the 25-year retrospective of the artist Marcus Thomas. At 26, Marcus Thomas survived a skiing accident which left him paralyzed from the neck down. Six months into his recovery, learning to live as a quadriplegic, he took up a paintbrush and started to create art. Now, 25 years after the accident, he continues to learn how to live - as an artist.
Beautifully written, Leslee, and beatifully painted, Marcus. I just got back from a walk through the woods with my dog, Charlene, and my goal is to learn how to be in tune to the sights and sounds and smells of the world around me half as much as she is.
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