The Whisper
36" x 24" / acrylic on canvas / sold
The Whisper
October 2007
Outside the entrance to my home lived an exquisite and beautiful creature. She was delicate and yet strong. She was a peaceful, yet powerful presence. She danced with the shifting of the wind and bent to the changing of the seasons. When I first moved into this home she was relatively small and seemed slightly fragile. The owner of the house that I live in often wondered if she would be able to thrive as she lived under the shadow of an ancient and mighty basswood. Over the years, she continued to constantly reach toward the sun and she grew strong and tall. She had surpassed human expectations in the face of adversity. She had grown into the promise of her ancient name, The Lady of the Woods. Whenever I left my home, and whenever I returned, she was there to greet me; her delicate branches arching over the walkway to my front door.
Quite simply and honestly, I fell in love with this exquisite creature. While painting her, I had an experience that was new to me. As I painted, my heart and hand worked in unison, creating something that I could only witness. Her heart and essence took shape in the leaves and her energy moved so quickly through me that I was left breathless and peaceful. The eyes on her trunk and branches are not artistic license. They were there, and were clearly visible in all worlds. Their centers pulsing with deep sepia and strong red undertones. Before I finished painting her, I knew that a key would be held gently in her embrace. The freestanding gate that the keys could open came as a surprise. All three components: tree, keys, and gate remind me of her; strong, delicate, refined and ephemeral in nature. Upon the completion of the painting it remained untitled. Nothing seemed appropriate or like the right fit. One day, while in conversation with the person who would eventually become the owner of the painting, she remarked that the painting was like a whisper; something spoken on the winds carried from another world.
One day when I returned home, the Lady of the Woods was gone. She had grown so large that she had become viewed as a threat to the owner’s home. Although I miss her comforting daily physical presence, her whisper continues to speak to me. She has been one of my greatest teachers and she continues to transmit her softly spoken messages in ways that mystify and delight me. Just when I think that I understand the message of her keys and the gate, she reveals another layer of their meaning.
The other day, I went outside to the garage/workshop where the staff of her trunk resides and held her in my hands. I touched her in the same way I always did when she stood tall and proud, with much love and respect. The color of her eyes has faded, the light no longer pushing through, but her spirit and energy can still be felt lying in wait, ready to be awakened through ceremony and ritual.
The other day, someone asked me what “The Whisper” was about, and why I had chose to paint a birch tree with eyes. At that moment I touched the painting in the same way that I had always touched her when she was rooted deep in the ground. The only response that would come from my lips was, “She was my teacher and my friend.”
Outside the entrance to my home lived an exquisite and beautiful creature. She was delicate and yet strong. She was a peaceful, yet powerful presence. She danced with the shifting of the wind and bent to the changing of the seasons. When I first moved into this home she was relatively small and seemed slightly fragile. The owner of the house that I live in often wondered if she would be able to thrive as she lived under the shadow of an ancient and mighty basswood. Over the years, she continued to constantly reach toward the sun and she grew strong and tall. She had surpassed human expectations in the face of adversity. She had grown into the promise of her ancient name, The Lady of the Woods. Whenever I left my home, and whenever I returned, she was there to greet me; her delicate branches arching over the walkway to my front door.
Quite simply and honestly, I fell in love with this exquisite creature. While painting her, I had an experience that was new to me. As I painted, my heart and hand worked in unison, creating something that I could only witness. Her heart and essence took shape in the leaves and her energy moved so quickly through me that I was left breathless and peaceful. The eyes on her trunk and branches are not artistic license. They were there, and were clearly visible in all worlds. Their centers pulsing with deep sepia and strong red undertones. Before I finished painting her, I knew that a key would be held gently in her embrace. The freestanding gate that the keys could open came as a surprise. All three components: tree, keys, and gate remind me of her; strong, delicate, refined and ephemeral in nature. Upon the completion of the painting it remained untitled. Nothing seemed appropriate or like the right fit. One day, while in conversation with the person who would eventually become the owner of the painting, she remarked that the painting was like a whisper; something spoken on the winds carried from another world.
One day when I returned home, the Lady of the Woods was gone. She had grown so large that she had become viewed as a threat to the owner’s home. Although I miss her comforting daily physical presence, her whisper continues to speak to me. She has been one of my greatest teachers and she continues to transmit her softly spoken messages in ways that mystify and delight me. Just when I think that I understand the message of her keys and the gate, she reveals another layer of their meaning.
The other day, I went outside to the garage/workshop where the staff of her trunk resides and held her in my hands. I touched her in the same way I always did when she stood tall and proud, with much love and respect. The color of her eyes has faded, the light no longer pushing through, but her spirit and energy can still be felt lying in wait, ready to be awakened through ceremony and ritual.
The other day, someone asked me what “The Whisper” was about, and why I had chose to paint a birch tree with eyes. At that moment I touched the painting in the same way that I had always touched her when she was rooted deep in the ground. The only response that would come from my lips was, “She was my teacher and my friend.”
