GRASSLANDS

The journey of a painting

What is this nonsense in shades of blue and green, some unappealing grays and baby pink? This painting took me on a journey. From a hot august day all through fall’s cool evening air. At first the blues moved like rain water, down and down. The gray shapes hung like angry storm clouds admiring their might in the flooded streets below. You see, where my studio was, the streets flood.

Then came the fall and the rains abruptly stopped. The painting, still hanging, its longing unanswered. More paint it whispered, I have a story to tell, it whispered. Patiently, I gave it what it wanted. A carnival mask of an old man’s face, my only companion, swinging in approval.

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The conversation deepened, and new secrets emerged like crocus blooms on a spring morning. I am the grasslands of your home, it said to me. I stood back and took in the shapes, the patches of green, blue, grey and pink. The bridges.

I stood back, and remembered, those rainy summer days of my childhood, in the city of my youth.

What is the one color that brings you back to the summer days of your youth?

Please share in the comments below!