Jill Moser

The sea she swims in is green. It is a place of one color, a calming color. But for a moment, she has emerged into a new world and lies poised between the sea and a blinding white, possibly the whiteness of brilliant dawn. She is curvy and supple and blue, so blue. Who and what is she? Could she be a seahorse? A mermaid? Look at her. Drink her in with your eyes. Look at the sweep and swerve of her body, her voluptuousness. Is that her tail?

We see her as she straddles two worlds, liquid and light, green and bright white. Which one will she choose? How long will she stay there? What does she see? Does she have eyes at all? Where does she belong? Where do we belong? Can you live in the netherworld between two colors, two states? Can she breathe in the whiteness, it’s air? Or does the green sea call her, lure her back into its wet depths, her body in need of the moisture?

Look closely at her, at each marvelous undulation. She may not be here long, still and caught between matter and light, choosing which way to go. She may swim right off of the canvas. Study her while you can. Perhaps you will be the one to disappear, sucked into the water or the light, the greenness, the whiteness.