11 x 14 Oil Pastel on PaperUnframed
Sometimes all it takes is the sense of a change in the air or an old tune playing, and an image pops into my mind.
This painting of large old barns at the edge of the plow field was triggered for me by an old fiddle tune I heard. Growing up in the Blue-Ridge Mountains of Virginia I was lucky to be surrounded by a lot of music making. There was no electricity and so no TV or radio. People sang and played instruments together most evenings and on the weekends as a way to entertain themselves. My father was one of those people who could pick up any instrument and teach himself to play it in no time at all. I recall him sitting out on the porch with a old fiddle he bought at a junk sale and teaching himself to play. In an hour or so I heard a melody I knew well coming from the porch. When that melody and memory came to me recently, this image of the barns came with it.
Until next time
Create beauty and fill the world with love.