A funny thing happened to me a month or so ago. I took my big, black, corporate looking SUV over to a neighbouring town, where there was a gorgeous horse farm I remembered from childhood. When I got there the clouds were billowing (hurricane Florence was raging a few hundred kilometres south of us), the fall grasses were blowing, and a kind-looking woman was out for her daily walk.
I slowed my car down to a creep and followed behind her while I tried to figure out which location to paint. Until it dawned on me that I was probably scaring the bejeepers out of her! Imagine those slowly creeping tinted windows!
I jumped out and let her know not to worry – I’m an artist – and I’m just here doing my thing. She surprised me. She is ALSO an artist. And her name is also Christy.
Long story short, I ended up at her house viewing her amazing flower paintings, and have spent a few afternoons there by her fireplace (and under her blingy disco-ball), painting up a storm together.
Her home is a thing to behold – a mid-1800’s farm house decked out by a stage actress, artist, and singer (Christy still talks about her days at Roy Thompson Hall!). And her yard lives up to the inside magic.
Here’s a portrait of Christy’s beloved black walnut tree. It’s the biggest I’ve ever seen – for sure dwarfing the others in town. I felt that it deserved a level of respect, so I placed the viewer below, looking up into its towering branches.
I call it Witness.