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New Art! “Becoming Liquid”

New Art - Becoming Liquid

By Heather Thompson

Digital Painting-PM for purchase information

Artist Statement

She thought the cocoon was about becoming a butterfly, but it was so much more than she could have imagined. A fractal cradle for an emerging limitless ocean. Inside the chrysalis, she let go of pre divorce “good girl” expectations all packaged for public acceptance … and LIQUIFIED into an amorphous pool of brilliant hues; words no longer sufficed when color became language. She’s surrendered to ineffable fluidity, as her divine spark of creativity became a reflection of the Creator leading her towards God’s Call for her life. It’s a walk into the unknown filled with an awareness that others may not understand, but she persists…holding the hands of those who have traversed this path before….

The words of Maya Angelou from “Still I Rise”

“I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.”

Still I Rise


You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.


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