Sep 17, 2018
Media: Oil gessobord
Size: 8x10 in
"The best way to know God is to love many things." --Vincent Van GoghNothing in a landscape makes me smile more than to see stacks of freshly baled hay dotting the horizon along a country farm road. This painting was of a photo I took in Montana over the summer. I could paint hay stacks over and over again. I wonder if Monet and Van Gogh might have had a similar obsession? Seeing bales scattered across a field gives me an inner sense of peace, causing me to reflect on the bounty of our own lives. To me, these gravestone-like-monuments are symbols representing lives of ultimate survival on the battlefield called life. Threatened by extreme weather, violent storms, lack of water, too much water, fighting off weeds and pests, the hay--with with all of its imperfections--is harvested at the perfect moment, and gathered into the bounty of a full life in all of its glory. With Thanksgiving right around the corner, what a perfect time to give thanks for the gift of our lives, where one day, our fruits too will be rolled into glowing bales. "The best way to know God is to love many things." --Vincent Van GoghNothing in a landscape makes me smile more than to see stacks of freshly baled hay dotting the horizon along a country farm road. This painting was of a photo I took in Montana over the summer. I could paint hay stacks over and over again. I wonder if Monet and Van Gogh might have had a similar obsession? Seeing bales scattered across a field gives me an inner sense of peace, causing me to reflect on the bounty of our own lives. To me, these gravestone-like-monuments are symbols representing lives of ultimate survival on the battlefield called life. Threatened by extreme weather, violent storms, lack of water, too much water, fighting off weeds and pests, the hay--with with all of its imperfections--is harvested at the perfect moment, and gathered into the bounty of a full life in all of its glory. With Thanksgiving right around the corner, what a perfect time to give thanks for the gift of our lives, where one day, our fruits too will be rolled into glowing bales. |