It was the paintings on the walls of caves that showed how lions and bears would turn and fight the men who speared them. But the horse was a creature of flight not fight and, with a simple deadly logic, the hunter used flight to destroy it for meat. Whole herds were driven hurtling headlong to their deaths from the tops of cliffs. And though later the horse came pretending friendship, the alliance with man would ever be but fragile, for the fear he’d struck in to their hearts was too deep to be dislodged. — Nicholas Evans, The Horse Whisperer
The story of the horse is so vast—soulful and complex. A story of trust. A story of us. The horse embodies us in it’s service, working class austerity—love and fear of us. Not to mention the pull on a girl’s heart.
The quote in this post is pulled from the introduction of a short story I wrote titled, “Flight.” I’ll be pulling from that story and from other authors to express in part the plight and power of this brilliant creature.
Project notes: Another watercolor from my fancy thick cotton paper sketchbook. After the Deibenkorn exhibit yesterday at the de Young Museum, I am stoked to get brave this month. The layers of color that he was able sculpt—the risks he took with paint just blew my mind.