Sunday, June 21, 2015
5" x 7" oil on board
When I was a kid, there was a dark and dense tangle of vines and trees separating the river house property from the property just up river to the north. There was one path, tunneling through the darkness to a sand road that wound through corn fields, growing all the way to where the bank angled down to the river. The path through the woods was sandy but strewn with holly leaves. Always barefoot, I chased many a ball and frisbee into those prickly woods. Usually, my brother and I would fight over who had to go in after.
Now, there's a mansion hovering over our cinderblock shack, and the woods, once home to foxes, raccoons, and all manner of tiny animal, have been thinned to make visible some of the larger oaks and sycamore trees. The trees are ancient and beautiful, but it also makes our neighbor's house much more visible.
This painting is what's left of the woods between the properties. The corn fields have transitioned to alfalfa; that's the golden streak you see running through the middle of the painting.