Pluto’s had a rough ride. It’s been flung out into the edges of the Solar System to orbit erratically among millions of other rocks, asteroids, dwarf planets and more. The influence of the sun barely, just barely reaches this far. In 2006, it was unceremoniously kicked out of the planet club once and for all, because, simply put, it didn’t fit the criteria of a planet anymore.
Yet it’s still connected to everything else. However weakly it feels the warmth of the sun, however dim its light and however meekly it communicates with its neighbours, it can never escape the pull of gravity. It hurtles far, then wide, then far again, always returning back to its rightful place.
It was only recently that we discovered its heart. Truly discovered it, realised that it was uniquely beautiful and yet, already fading. It’s strange to think that there’s a heart so many billions of miles away, even stranger that it could be beating with life.
No matter how far away we look, where we point our gaze, we can find something familiar. There’s comfort in connections, whether they are newly discovered connections to ourselves, each other, and even things we feel are totally irrelevant.
Yes, at times, we’re erratic, eccentric and downright puzzling, but we’re all that bit special. We’re all a bit like Pluto.
This miniature painting is a 15 x 15 cm square canvas panel, painted unusually for me in acrylics. A few swashes of the softest blues mixed with dusty red hues more familiar on Mars. It’s what I painted when I knew I should be something else. Instead, I painted what I wanted, what I felt. There’s a cosmic connection to everything, and I’m craving finding it.