When I was a resident at Sitka in 2010, I asked a Forest Service biologist if trees had an exact 'time of death'. They don`t. When a mature tree falls and is left to eventually return to the earth, there is a wistful somber nobility to it, it`s elegiac. That`s a beautiful word that is rarely used and I never hear spoken. Too bad. I often see these fallen giants on my walks and I`m struck by their dignity in their decay. That is what I hoped to portray here in contrast to the lush new season. This painting is not what I meant so I`ll try again. Got the juicy spring ambiance but not the gravity of those old trees.
Here are a couple of photos I`ve taken of others;
kind of heartbreaking
It`s hard not to see human aspirations in these forms.
work for sale in my studio
