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I?m best at drawing and painting from life. Photographs challenge me: no depth, no volume. Life models are hard to come by. Wanting a ready subject for my art, I turned to sunflowers (the subject of Van Gogh, Schiele and others). They?re placed in a black vase and set on the table. At first, I didn't know how to paint flowers, so I watched them. I watched all week, until, all wilted, they were tossed away. I bought more and watched those wither and die, too. This continued for months. |
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Then, on one nondescript day, buying my bundle, taking them home and placing them in the
vase, one flower inflated and spread out majestically. Something flashed to me - treat the flower like a person, look for that ?character' within. This flower, all proud and grand, rose above the rest for about two days. Then, slowly, it drooped. This wasn?t bad, but wonderful! Its leaves kneeled down. The pedals prayed. In this sacred moment, the sunflower became a being. She developed a character, a soul; sad, yet solemn, humble, sincere. Raised on compassion?s raindrops, this one melted my heart. The
flower?s face radiated. Made from love, she was a gift of the sun, every second more beautiful inside and out. The flower?s brilliance filled me. My soul touched. I had something
to paint.
The blossom?s week spent, why did I have to throw her away? |
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So, at the market, inspecting the flowers, I look for that gem. Not necessarily the most beautiful right now, for that is still locked inside. All what is needed is patience, forgiveness, nurturing, understanding and care; an abundance of love. I will find her again.
The clerk looks at me, "Can I help you?".
"Yes," I reply, always the same. "I looking for that special one. The one watered by tears."
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