Precious things passed down from my grandmothers
My grandmothers and my great grandma bequeathed me their common love of flower gardening and lovely things. They handed down the etched glass vase, the sterling serving spoon and the lace mat in this still life, a legacy of love and loveliness.
My still life paintings are rare. I created this one as a change of pace from my usual landscapes.
A still life should hold a subtle story. I chose objects that, when arranged together, have a meaning beyond their own. When she'd pot a blooming plant, my great-grandmother liked to include a nail or shavings from a railroad spike to add iron to the soil. Wondering what she might've used, had she lived on a ranch, I slipped a rusty horseshoe into my composition. My city grandmother would dig in her formal rose bed using any handy tool: this usually meant shuffling dirt with a sterling serving spoon. My other grandma, a simple, tidy lady, potted her plants on brown paper grocery bags, indoors or out. All three loved lace, etched glass, and color.
I composed and painted this pastel in my studio, finishing it except for the rose and for detailing the glass and lace. Those final touches, I saved to show the artists in my advanced pastel painting class. As I finished painting in the tiny holes in the lace and colors in the rose, I explained to my adult students that it doesn't matter whether you're painting a tree or a rose or a face-- as an artist, you must decide what you want to say to the viewer, then let your fingers follow your thoughts across your canvas.
Here I'm saying, Thank You, three special ladies, for showing me beauty, for teaching me that getting your hands dirty is as much form of loveliness as tatting lace, and for allowing a few extraordinary surprises, like horseshoes, to enter daily life.
