I'm back in NY, but my brain is still in the air, halfway between here and that last rice field. I woke up at 3am thinking about the farmer. He was a stick man, so thin I could see all his bones and muscles. His fields were between our bungalow and the surf. He worked from dawn till dusk, hacking away with a long knife, dragging a log around in the water by a rope, scything grass and stirring it into the paddy. He took the palm leaves off the little nursery bed of rice, and it glowed a brilliant emerald. At the end of the day he chopped an armful of greens from a little side garden and left. He was back the next morning, sharpening his long knife. I can still hear it whacking the mud.
I went into the studio to try and work, but my head is so full of other colors...those tube paints seem so dull. Right now I would require radioactive colors to work. I think I'm better off working in my own garden until Bali wears off a little more.
Small green coconuts, apples, bunches of bananas, salak fruit with skin like a snake, Bali oranges, sweet rice cakes, purple, orange, blue, yellow, red and white flowers arranged with sprays of cut and woven palm leaves, eight roasted chickens, crowned with betel, a gold foil fan, and blooms bouncing on bamboo stems. This lady glided slowly, gracefully through the split gate of the temple and down the stairs. Five men rushed over to lift the magical universe from her head. She came and sat next to me in the shade, and I congratulated her with grins and hand signals. She was gleeful, dressed in her traditional best, panting and wiping streaming sweat from her face. She explained how important this celebration was, something about the full moon, and once a year and other things I didn't get, but her excitement and happiness were clear and contagious. Later, after a night of music, ritual dancing, socializing, gambling, tasty treats, prayer and general hullabaloo, after much sprinkling of holy water, after the essence of the offering has been consumed by the God, the tower goes back on her head, through the gate and home for a family feast. For us, a taste of Bali fascination.
