Lately, I’ve received as gifts two large-format books which have found their way into my work flow. One, from my daughter, is about flowers—and you know how I feel about flowers. Another is from my man, Cloudy, one about treehouses. You may not know that I have a thing for treetop living in general, and would like to try it someday. I did a series of nests a few years ago when I was in Los Angeles. Each nest contained a city or place, such as Venice, California, pictured here.
I like small, hideaways (who doesn’t?), whether they are flowers, nests with cities in them, treehouses, or the lounge at The Cave restaurant in Saskatoon. I also have a thing for reversible clothing, though it is very hard to find nowadays. There are many more examples, but I can’t tell you about them. If I told you, I’d have to kiss you. Wink.
Years back there was a delightful show at the old Mendel Art Gallery called Small Worlds. It was a hit with our family. Some of the pieces featured little windows you could put your eye to, whereupon you would discover a small world within.
But anyway, aren’t all paintings small worlds, little windows opening onto other realities if we just lean in? Aren’t all flowers? Aren’t all people? I find intrigue and hope in hidden potential and am always on the look-out for it. Maybe that’s what my nests and treehouses are about. And maybe I’ve said too much.
The recent watercolour below is called “Flowers with Tent.” My friend Marni wrote this poem about it:
Floating yet grounded
High in her tree,
Lifted with love,
My Sprite and me.
