There is something sweetly evocative yet melancholy in the sight of pressed flowers--- like my memories of my great-grandmother's hand picked wildflower wedding bouquet in its ornate Victorian frame--- for many years it hung pale and ghostly near my mother's bed--- or stories of a simple flower wreath found amid the golden finery of Tutankhamen's tomb, a poignant reminder of the humanity behind the facade of even a god king. Flowers encapsulate the idea of vanitas in their ephemeral beauty, accompanying us from the beginning to the end of our lives. Despite these more solemn associations, as with so many folks, flowers are one of the greatest joys in my life and it's natural to want to prolong their magic. The pages of my sketchbook are stained in many places where I couldn't resist tucking in the shed beauty of a scarlet poppy or a feathery fern found along the path. Often when I sit down to draw they come unexpectedly fluttering out into the world, reminding me to see them anew.Inspired by all the lovely artistic work created with pressed plants from past eras as well as present, I made a small group of flower "paintings"--trying to stay true to the form of petals and leaves--no cutting allowed, only small discreet parts separated from the whole when needed. The largest of these flower fae paintings measure under ten centimeters in height and are true miniatures. (You are seeing them here at around actual size).
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Time Flies on Gossamer Wings
It has been exactly a year and three days since my first post on this blog. Thanks to those who've taken the time to comment and email, many of you with such lovely blogs of your own to share. I'm so thrilled by all the beautiful images, thoughts and creativity to be found at my fingertips!