Seeking Growth; select work from 2013/2012
“Run my dear, from anything that may not strengthen your precious budding wings” ~Hafiz
I believe life occurs during the transition from one state to another. In the process of becoming, self is given and lost; gift and sacrifice.
This rich metamorphosis is the underlying subject of my series Seeking Growth. Growth first involves a decay or decomposition, symbolized by the fungal forms which burst into new life. This beautiful moment of vulnerability occurs when one’s identity is unknown, during the shift from what was to what will be.
The ideas I developed while working on Seeking Growth continue to influence my current work.
Oil on gessoed cloth. 30"x30"
Heavy Falls the Hand
Every tree has a heartbeat, has a spirit. When the hand comes, and her trunk is broken, her roots severed, her leaves fallen, remember there is always a seed. This painting tells the story of that seed. The possibility of life is shown through the bio-luminescent fungal forms that gather close to the tree spirit. 11”x14” acrylic on canvas.
Among the Elderberries
Dead leaves, rot, the hollow bones of birds. These compose the dirt that the living forest feeds upon. But before fallen logs and moss become nourishing soil they must be transformed. This the story of life, is the story of a cackleberry. A cackleberry is an egg. It’s bulging sides contain all of life’s potential. The wondrous fungal form in the painting symbolize the transformation of the land from death to life. The woman holds the cackleberry close. She is nature’s spirit dreaming a new dawn.
Green, half formed, unripe. Becoming a truer self, leaving the old self like crumbling bark. Only a sapling, yet old as the forest, old as breathing. This painting dwells on ideas of finding self and the process of growing. The girl is representational of transition. She is the forests spirit, she is the unripe fruit. 16”x20” Oil on canvas.
In the land reminiscent of honey, where the earth is cracked like parched lips from too many kisses shared. Where memory is the earth’s shared blanket, the soil a glimpse of what was. Where she grows from a severed tree root, where she reaches through cold water to clasp the memory close. Memory of those muscles, touching, punching, loving, coiling, tearing. Like wanting to taste, like needing to eat.
20"x23 1/2". Oil on canvas.