It happens every year about this time. March rolls in and I become constipated — creatively that is.
Living deep in the woods of Vermont, the solitude and beauty I find in the winter months is breathtaking. The fire and vitality of summer are silenced by a layer of fluffy frosting, revealing only stark contrasts. The March landscape in Vermont is brilliantly minimal.
That’s the good news. The bad news is, I’m a color gal. Just about this time every year my heart and creative pulse yearns for color.
I have enjoyed winter's living grayscale laying outside my window, exposing the whitest whites to the blackest blacks, however, I now pine for color. My monastic, midwinter, white-bread diet is yearning for a little spice. Color is that spice, the remedy I desperately need to stir my creative flow once again.
So until the first signs of spring appear, my eye wildly searches for color. Today’s color was found is a bouquet of orange roses on my kitchen counter.
I pulled one stem from the arrangement, brought it to my windowsill, gently placing it on its side, while admiring its beauty. I said to the rose, “Talk to me”.
Oh, what a conversation we had!
I inadvertently opened a flood gate of emotions for this single rose. Rose told me how misunderstood she was. She resented how she was looked upon as just a pretty little thing. Most never took the time to truly recognize her depth and sensitivity. She went on to explain she was so much more than a cluster of petals. She was life itself.
Rose then felt comfortable enough with me to expose her various sides. In an instant she became my model and muse, perched in front of me, the artist. Slowly she stripped away her layers, exposing her mystery, sensuality and her grandeur.
Just as an artist's brush attempts to capture the grace and emotion of that which lies before him, I tried to document the complexity of this rare beauty.
What would happen if you spent quality time, like this, with everything that crossed your path? How could you not feel the flush of awe and reverence for life itself.
Live in color,
An image alone sometimes feels insufficient, that’s where Musings come in. A space where words and images come together to tell the story.
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