Description
These roses were growing in a dear friends garden. I worked on this composition in Photoshop, to bring the two images closer and eliminate a spent rose in between. I’ve had this resulting image printed for a few years and have wondered – as I do sometimes – about whether or not it would really make a good painting. I love the tropical-punch colors and the combination of the back side of a rose where the sepals come out – which I think is just as compelling and lovely as the front – and the ¾ view of the other, catching the light just so. I had been working on a painting of end-of-the-season hydrangeas, which was feeling like autumn.
Over the last month (February-March 2016), with all our rain, spring has fully arrived here in Northern California, so I needed something pink or pink-ish to work on instead. Our friendship took a painful turn – and when I realized that I have had a print of this image sitting on the window sill near my painting table in my studio for months, I knew it was the time to paint it. It came through in just three weeks – pretty quickly. Some big shapes (petals and leaves) helped – fine detail takes time to paint!
I’m in a phase these days of embracing imperfection. So, though my critical eye sees things about it that I might have wanted to “fix” in the past, I’m not feeling compelled to do so. I like it just fine as it is. I shifted the colors of the original roses (as the rose bush made them) for both paintings. In Hallelujah they became very orange-red with some of the greenish-ness of yellow ochre in the shadowy parts. In this painting I wanted to bring out the magentas, violets and blues. I exaggerated these colors on the edges and curls of the petals. This rosebush is no longer growing in my friend’s yard. It was planted by a previous owner of their house and they had other plans – for a Zen garden in that spot. I’m sorry that it isn’t, as I just loved these flowers and have no idea what variety it is.
As I’ve been grappling with this sudden shift in our relationship, my friend Vicki told me to say to myself the word “together” whenever I think of her. She called it a “magic word.” We are not in each other’s lives now, but whether or not there is a relationship for us in the future, we’ve traveled more than 25 years life’s road with each other and have touched each other indelibly. So I’m certain that some aspect of us – of our spirits and souls – are together in some way, on some plane of existence. It’s the perfect name for this painting.
June-August 2017
