Yet don’t we all know, the golden sand
Is there at the bottom,
Though our eyes have never seen it,
Nor can our hands ever catch it.
Lest we would sift it down
Into fractions, and facts-
Certainties-
—Mary Oliver, “Bone”
To make art is to see. My friend bequeathed me color by blowing out her brains. She bequeathed me the truth of her pain and the integrity of ch…