I garden in the winter, in one form or another. This past fall, on my mind were show auricula primroses. Their flowers are as beautiful as their forms are varied. The English exhibit alpine auriculas at competitions like we Americans show African violets, and matched topiary pairs at the Philly flower show. The English derive such joy from their gardening, and a dose of joy was what I was after. They even build staging for their auriculas in pots, known as auricula theatres. Wow. Only the English would find such drama in a series of little potted primroses, perfectly grown.
Enamored of the auriculas, and their theatres, this seemed the perfect winter to give my internal conversation and interest in them a life; the winter has been exceptionally vile. I turned my back on this weather, the phone, and the news, and painted little watercolors of them. I have made 67 paintings, on my way to 100. I made subsequently made 7 paintings of entire blooming plants. And I built 4 theatres.
I drew from my past-I had not painted in at least 20 years. I started small, this a hedge against being discouraged by failure. I used techniques I had been taught never to do. I applied the paint thickly, not always transparently. I wiped off with paper towel what I did not like. Breaking the rules, this part was fun. Passionate activity helps mitigate an ill wind, or foul winter weather. It can wean you away from things that you can’t change anyway. An unforeseen benefit-the conversations with clients generated by these pictures on a wide range of topics.
Making the paintings feels great; I am using my voice. It feels even better to connect. All in all, its important business; making something, anything, grow.
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