Description
These roses grow in a beautiful garden on an estate called Filoli in Woodside, California. Once a private home, it is now in the hands of a foundation that maintains it and makes it available to the public. Surrounded by 16 acres of formal gardens, it’s a parade of glory from the first blossoms in the earliest of spring, through the fall with colorful leaves and fruit hanging from trees. When I was in my 20’s and early 30’s I lived on The Peninsula – south of San Francisco – not far from Filoli. As my first marriage was unravelling, I found my way here and became a member so I could go often. I’m not sure why I didn’t take any pictures on those visits that year, but I do remember the flowers – daffodils and tulips, flowering shrubs – camellias and rhodies, then the peonies and roses along with the annuals and biennials in the cutting gardens: foxglove, delphinium, sweet peas – all the flowers of an English garden. Since I didn’t take pictures, I must have been there to restore my spirit as I faced my uncertain future.
Last May (2015) was my first trip back – 20 years later. Several of the artists in our groups took a trip down to see – and yes, photograph – the flowers. I took several pictures of this one rose – a climber – that was growing back behind the cutting garden cages. There was something about this one – the way the light hit it, the slight down-turn, that grabbed at me. The image needed some re-structuring in Photoshop – there was a bud and one of the leaflets blocking parts of the big rose. When I needed a dose of pink this spring, painting this was just what I needed. The background was fun to paint, one of the more complex I’ve done. Partway through it, I discovered that I had captured some of the chicken wire fence that it was hanging on – a welcome bit of pattern amongst all the organic shapes.
This is an utterly feminine image and painting. I felt a presence – almost that of a female spirit – come through as I was finishing it up, painting the big rose. It was as if I was painting someone’s portrait. The process of naming my paintings can start even before I begin working on them. With some of them, I look at images and wonder what I might name the potential painting. As it was with this one – I’d been pondering what to call it for a while. I wanted to name it “Eden” – the lushness and the intricacy – the mother rose with all her buds around her. But there is a variety of rose called Eden (which this is not) and I didn’t want rosarians to think I’d named the painting after the rose variety. I wanted to invite the viewer all the way back to that first garden. It wasn’t a big leap to go from there to the name we’ve given to that first woman, who inhabited that garden. I present to you “Eve,” in her garden.
April 2016
