Urban Tree

Trees in landscape, trees in forests, trees on farms, on shores, on lakes, reflecting in water, are eloquent. Trees that become one following the horizon, inspire. Always!

I paint trees in settings other than where they actually are. Blues and greens in the bark after a rain have a special hue. I admire the shape of a tree when the leaves have gone and I have a lingering regret when the spring fills the branches with beautiful leaves. 

Urban trees are sometimes small, struggling, boxed in by concrete, hacked at by drivers not adept at parallel parking. Mature trees in old neighbourhoods are scarred by electric companies that feel the need to leave gaping holes in these things of beauty. 

Acrylic on paper (30" x 22")

One of my tributes to the urban tree.

The Conversation

It goes like this: You say something to someone just to start or keep the conversation going and immediately regret it because it sounds banal or stupid, or too little, or too much -- regardless -- it is just, well, just "too".

This is not confined to conversation. 

Too much said,

  

too little said,

 

but no one else notices.

Elusive

Never quite what I saw, never quite what I wanted, the nature of the beast is elusive much like grasping at wisps as they float out of your line of vision only to be seen again with a quick look to      the right, or left.

 Turn your head and try to 'catch' it. Not possible.

Sometimes it seems as though I am left with a shell of that vision

Balance

Space implies non-existence. Yet we fill space.

Something from nothing and negative space suggest the state of non-being. It appears as though these come from nothing.

How do we measure "nothing"? How do we fill space?