My earliest recollections are all about color in nature: the silvery underside of poplar leaves in a stormy sky, sparkly white mica against brown earth and deep green, red flesh and ebony seeds inside the mottled green hide of a watermelon. The cherry tree at my grandparent’s house was magnificent to my child eyes. It grew taller than the garage and called birds to sing in its branches, and the fruit that fell beneath it made amazing crimson puddles against the sidewalk.
Why is fruit so unnecessarily beautiful? Fruit is sweetness and light, color and texture, both the product and the means of reproduction. It has become so commonplace for us in its abundant availability that I sometimes fail to grasp the miracle that I am invited to enjoy this creation with my eyes as well as my appetite.
I am awed by this ripe and fleshy energy as I study this botanical life for clues on how to translate this glory onto canvas in a way that invites others to slow down and take a closer look at the unexpected splendor that surrounds us every day.
Here are a few examples of her work.