SEA OF GOLD

SEA OF GOLD        acrylic on canvas by Candace Knapp 
13" x 13" x 1 ½"       $ 450.          Photo Bjorn Andren


SEA OF GOLD

Awakened
from a late afternoon nap by sun on my face
I open my eyes to a sea of gold pouring through an open window.
Dust particles glisten against the ceiling.
Shapes drift by, floaters in the liquid of my eyes.
Age has its charm.
I now see the layers beneath the surface.
Thoughts become life forms
mingling in the air above
like guests at a cocktail party.
Inner and outer worlds collide
creating conversations, faces, colors that slide. 
Everything is speaking to me.
Stories brush against my ear like invisible radio signals
and I have time to listen.
I am here for you.
I am not crazy yet.

FRANCOIS

FRANCOIS     Wood Sculpture by Candace Knapp    
29" x 42" x 13"        $ 4800.      Photo Bjorn Andren

FRANCOIS

    I see the way you look at me! You are thinking, “he is made of wood. He does not suffer.” But you are so wrong. I suffer more than you can imagine. People look at my beautiful horns and they say, “Oh, he is a goat.”  Would you be happy if someone called you a goat? I am NOT a goat. I am Francois but people do not want to know this. They do not want to know me! They prefer to decide that I am some animal so they won’t have to know me or speak to me.  They insult me and then they turn away. I tell you I am Francois. I have dignity, I hold my head high...but I bleed inside. They hurt me, these people. And here I was ready to be their friend ! It is a painful truth. 

    There is something more. You see, I have short legs. Many people have short legs, Napoleon had short legs. It is not so unusual. I have my dignity AND I have short legs but people do not see this. They say a terrible thing. I almost cannot say the word it is so hurtful. They call me a dachshund.  I am not that word.  I am not some poopie little puppie!  I am Francois!  Why do people always want to know “What is it?” Then they can put me in a box in their mind and forget me. Why do they not ask, “Who is he? How can I meet him? What does he eat for breakfast?” Why do they not say, “How strange and beautiful and friendly he is?”

    I am glad you are standing there listening to me. You are probably thinking, “Francois is just some old sculpture standing around all day. He has no adventures, no stories to tell.”  How little you know!  I smile inside!  Right now I am having an argument with myself. Should I tell them or should I not tell them? Are you really listening to me?  Do you know that listening is a great art? Can you listen  without running off someplace in your mind? It is not so easy. Now I am looking at you and I see that you have beautiful eyes. I think I would like to tell you one of my secrets.   

    This is a small secret. You think I am just standing here. Everyone thinks that but I have fooled them all. I travel far and have adventures you cannot even imagine. How do I do this? In my imagination!  One place I love to go is the forest. My forest has a lot of very tall thin yellow trees. It is so dense that the light filtering down to the grassy floor is in thin golden threads. Up above I hear the leaves shifting in the wind. That is my favorite music. It is easy to be lost here because it looks the same in every direction. My mind gets confused but the land rises and falls and my feet remember the way. I follow my feet. I cannot say there is a path but there is a slight opening between the trees that seems to continue and lead me on. I find that it is always like this. There is always a direction if you know how to look for it.  I keep moving. I trot along like a great war horse. I can even leap over fallen trees. I tell you my legs are terribly strong. This place I am going to, it is calling me. It is pulling me. I am on my way and the way seems very familiar.  There are tall grasses. Afternoon sunbeams warm my back and   I can smell something.  What is that?  I think I am thirsty.  Now the trail is going down to a clearing.  Oh I remember. There it is, a pool of clear water surrounded by mossy rocks. I approach carefully and with great respect.  I reach down and taste the cool water on my tongue. I drink deeply. It feels like life is coming into my body.  Then I just pause and sniff the air above the water. The water becomes calm like a mirror. Suddenly  I see him, the magnificent Francois with his beautiful horns and his kind eyes. He is there in the pool looking back at me! My heart rejoices.

    Friend, I won’t tell you any more right now. I have given you enough. But don’t you agree that I  have wonderful adventures?    Someday I will tell you another story but first you must give me a beautiful smile and be careful because I will know if it is a real smile or not. Now go away.       

THE LOOKOUT

  
    THE  LOOKOUT   wood sculpture by Candace Knapp    
    16" x 6" x 5"         SOLD           Photo Bjorn Andren
   


 THE LOOKOUT

After a long grey winter It happened that one day the sun came out
the leaves opened wide and  POP,  here I was all new and tender !
After that I started watching everything.
I kept my eyes open and the more I saw the more I understood.
Just yesterday there was this brown dog that sniffed me.
He had a bushy tail that hit me square in the face. Oooo so scratchy.
Then yesterday afternoon there was a barbeque.
I found out that I am on the lanai, that means screened porch in Florida,
with some plants just above the ice chest where the drinks are.
People were coming over to me all the time and one plump woman
even exclaimed, “Oh, How Beautiful !”  That’s when I found out
I am standing next to an orchid.

Two small children sat on plastic chairs facing me.
They were eating ice cream cones and swinging their legs back and forth frantically.
That’s when I realized I could really read people. Kids just want to have fun.
I hope they won’t come over and bump me. It is a danger.
I feel that my purpose is to be on the lookout for danger.
I watch for it. There was one heavyset man with a blue shirt and long whiskers
who came to the ice chest a lot. I could feel so strongly that he is
in the habit of being angry. I have my eye on him and also on
a nervous lady with a high voice who titters around the lanai on quick little feet.
Another woman, tall and grey, sipped white wine slowly and smiled.
More and more people filled the room, too many to watch.
The noise became almost unbearable and then there was music.
An elderly gentleman took his wife by the hand and started dancing next to the pool. 
I worried a little that they might fall in but still it was nice.

The best thing that has happened to me so far is that Linda passed by.
She stopped, looked right at me and said out loud, “I like this one.”
Wow! I try not to show people how excited I am but
Gee, it’s all I can think about night and day.
Linda likes me.
I think she has stolen my heart.

JONES

JONES       wood mobile by Candace Knapp       5" x 18" x 12"       Sold

JONES

You can call me "Jones."
That's not really my name and it doesn't matter
because I will never tell you my real name.
I am camouflaged and you will never see through my disguise.
You might think of me as a branch of a tree or a snake.
When I slip through the air with my leaves rustling
I might remind you of a dragon.
Of course I am none of these and you will never know what I am.

I am more interested in what you are.
Though you usually don't see me, I am always here.
I watch you and listen to every word you say,
repeating your thoughts to the wind so that they travel
in great circles around the earth. You are very important to me.
I study your face to see signs of what you are feeling.
I watch you with other people and when you are alone.
I notice how you have changed over the years, I remember everything.

When you breathe I feel the air shift and when you fall asleep
it is as if a light had gone out. When you are sad my heart aches
and when you are happy I fly around in circles until I get dizzy.
I am the dearest friend you will never know.

You can call me "Jones."

MELISSA

MELISSA      Wood Sculpture by Candace Knapp      26" x 12" x 11"        $ 2400.
Photo Bjorn Andren


MELISSA

Hi, I’m Melissa.
You can see that I have amazing potential.
I’m just not ready yet and I don’t want to be pushed.
Sometimes I just like to think about all the possibilities,
all the wonderful things I will do some day.

I think I could be really famous.
I’m a pretty good dancer, you know,
and I like to sing but maybe not so much in front of people.
My friends all tell me that I have style.
I could be a fashion model!
Or a scientist!
My grandmother says that I am really smart
and should use the brains that God has given me.

So,
I think this is going to work out really well
Just now I am waiting for the right moment.
Do you ever feel like that?
You know, just waiting for the right moment?

In the meantime
It’s really good that I am patient with myself.

SWEET DREAMS

SWEET DREAMS     wood mobile by Candace Knapp     70" x 48" x 24"      $ 8200.
Photo Bjorn Andren

SWEET DREAMS

This tree knows me, cares for me,
stretching her arms in great green arcs
that protect me from sun, wind, and curious intruders.
Like a ripening fruit suspended from a green canopy
I turn slowly on a breath of air.
No one can find me here. I am safe and I can sleep.

I am in the sweetest dream now,
the place of all possibilities, the place where ideas are born.
Faint half-formed images like wisps of color brush against my cheek.
Forgotten melodies drift sideways beneath me softly humming to each other.
Fragments of poems scatter lost words that join together in unexpected friendships.
This is where it all begins. This is where I learn to dance
turning slowly at first. Wherever I lean my head,
my body follows.  Whatever I yearn to know,
I experience.  I feel myself falling.
I have earned my dancing shoes.

Am I the fruit or am I the seed?
Perhaps I am only  the fanciful daydream
of a maple tree giving wings to her seeds
so they can whirl and dance as they float down to earth
and begin again.