Yellow Orchid: acrylic and pencil on canvas (16″ x 20″)
This is the fourth and last canvas I painted this summer. Painting on canvas is new for me and I’m really enjoying both the larger size and the textural differences from painting on good paper.
This beautiful yellow orchid joined us for Thanksgiving and lives in a large beaten copper pot set in front of a striking huge blue photographic print by Paul Solberg. The print — six feet long and five feet high — is a dramatically large close up of an orchid flower bathed in black light, given to us by the artist as a wedding gift.
That’s the blue in the background, art giving birth to art.
Hibiscus: Acrylic on canvas (18″ x 24″)
If any evidence of alien visitation on Earth were needed, the Hibiscus provides it. The colours of the flowers are vividly luminescent and unearthly, the structure of its reproductive organs outlandishly elaborate, provocative, and intricate.
There’s one in our living room in a corner by a south-facing window. It is extremely temperamental but nonetheless produces large, vibrant flowers almost continuously.
So much passionately unrequited love endlessly calling out into the universe, like the green light at the end of Daisy Buchanan’s dock tearing eternally at Gatsby’s heart.
Petunias: Acrylic on Canvas (18″ x 24″)
I try to immerse myself as much as possible in creativity as an antidote to the times we’re living through and to find positive ways to express myself rather than indulge in the kinds of inchoate ranting that might otherwise ensue. This, then, is my second canvas, having before mostly painted on good paper.
This spring a large blue pot of Petunias, an annual we planted in the spring of 2017, regenerated itself into a massive spray of purple. The lettuce we had in small window boxes last summer regrew this spring as well. I don’t know how it’s possible for an annual to become a perennial, but the boxes of lettuce, after providing free salads for us again all this summer as well as last, are still growing, and the Petunias still blooming now as I write this.
There is something to be said for their extraordinary resilience and irrepressible will not just to live, but to thrive. I love their joie de vivre!