Memento Mori

I'll admit that art fascinates me, and the human mind. We have an amazing ability to remember, label, and classify things and experiences. But let me focus as not to be intentionally vague. Beauty is an ideal for some, myself included. I am mesmerized by the play of light across flower petals or across a body of water. Fountains offer countless hours of distraction as do flames lapping at a hearth in winter. Serene in the unstillness, a respite from a hectic world or a return to nature and the simple knowledge that the elements consume constantly. Seasons come and go; first stark and barren fields are worked and toiled, graced by water, sun, and seed. But risk and dangers are continual; an early (or late) frost, insect infestation, or drought. In that vein artists across the generations have attempted to capture images of bountiful harvest and bloom, to counter winter months. I draw inspiration for my paintings from nature, but often get distracted by the call of the sunshine and the duties gardening dictates. One becomes a willing servant, at least I try to remind myself of this in 90 degree weather as weeds must be removed. Seeing the miracle of a velvety rose petal, or smelling the fragrance of sweet honeysuckle makes all the toil worthwhile. I also admit that the colors of natures bounty perpetually amaze me. It's a sensory extravaganza.

Painting: Iceland Poppies by Leon Roulette