The trees are tall and the light comes through.
The forest is dark and the flowers are blooming. Burgundy at the base. White rising. Yellow green pouring through the gaps in the canopy. Both things happening in the same painting at the same time, and neither one apologizing for the other.
This is the painting for the moment you stop choosing between the dark and the light. You stop pretending one has to win. You stop waiting for the trees to get out of the way before you let yourself bloom. The flowers do not wait. The light does not negotiate. The forest holds them both.
Seven inches by four and three quarters. Substantial enough to anchor a wall. Quiet enough to hold its own.
The forest is the witness. The flowers are the proof. The light is the constant.
Both Things True.
The trees are tall and the light comes through.
The forest is dark and the flowers are blooming. Burgundy at the base. White rising. Yellow green pouring through the gaps in the canopy. Both things happening in the same painting at the same time, and neither one apologizing for the other.
This is the painting for the moment you stop choosing between the dark and the light. You stop pretending one has to win. You stop waiting for the trees to get out of the way before you let yourself bloom. The flowers do not wait. The light does not negotiate. The forest holds them both.
Seven inches by four and three quarters. Substantial enough to anchor a wall. Quiet enough to hold its own.
The forest is the witness. The flowers are the proof. The light is the constant.
Both Things True.
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