"Gloaming" by Walter J. Phillips

Ripples of milky sun interrupt the mottled sheet. A sharp shard of red tears through them both. Aboard the canoe, a woman softly steers. Her body has melted into the water, leaving her head an elevated, ghostly observer.

I am alone here now, listening to the wind and sloshing waters. Some of these sounds I control, but mostly they are beyond my influence. I look down at my feet on the floor and I feel large. But deep down in the pit of my soul I feel my smallness. 

"Winter Sunshine" by Walter J. Phillips

I first wrote about Walter J. Phillips in this 2013 post. You can read all about this Canadian pioneer of color woodblock printmaking on his Wikipedia page. Phillips especially has so many great winter prints. I wrote about his Tree Shadows In Snow last year. Here is another winter gem.

I peek out at this scene of winter's stronghold. Streams of inky blue shadows puddle and bleed across the otherwise undisturbed snow. Barren branches reach up into the hallow sky, grabbing hold of my window's frame. No heat from the sun can penetrate the chilled air, and yet these trees are lit on fire.

I know it is cold, so please, take my hand and let's dance!

"Tree Shadows In Snow" by Walter J. Phillips

The Sorcerer leans, 

raises bony limbs, and casts

an indigo web.

Yet another snow day - what a gloriously, white winter we're having! I love this image from the great, Canadian color print-maker Walter J. Phillips; it reminds me of when the brooms come alive in Disney's Fantasia. I can even hear The Sorcerer's Apprentice music by Paul Dukas playing in my mind. The tree in the foreground's gesture is every bit as fearsome as the Sorcerer from the animated classic. And just as the mood is lightened by Mickey's buffoonery, the light and cheery colors add a bit of playfulness to this image. For more wonderful winter woodcuts by Phillips, be sure to check out this post on The Blue Lantern.

"Mary At the Lake" by Walter J. Phillips

I am watching her watch something else. Her warm, peach skin stands out against endless amethyst. A bush rises up like a defense, and behind it her body disintegrates. Such senses - her gaze, hearing, smelling - stem from her face. That wistful expression. Beyond her the still and purple lake becomes inexplicably vast.