Description
These hydrangeas were blooming the Christmas before last out at my parents’ place. I was enjoying the unseasonably mild weather wandering the garden with Leigh and Lena, my niece and her partner, visiting from Brooklyn for the holidays. The light was low – even in mid-day – illuminating the whole thing, and grabbing my attention to save it all with my trusty iPhone. The leaves reveal the lateness of the season, but most of the flower clusters were as bright and vibrant as mid-summer! It was a mild winter, but still – this colorful?
After the presidential election of 2016 put much of the world into turmoil, I wanted something to paint that would bridge my inner spaces, some tattered and weary and others committed to life and beauty no matter what. The series of images I took of these vivid pink flowers and yellow leaves came to mind. In my studio was a square frame of beautiful wood that “Rest” left behind when it went off to Alberta, Canada – prompting me to see if I could come up with a square composition that would please me.
Before even drawing it, as I was still working with the image in Photoshop, the name came to me. Though the word “beatitude” means “supremely blessed,” in my mind it was an allusion to the Beatitudes – part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. I have very little to do with the Bible, though the tradition that is the most mine is Christian. But this passage is different – I have a history with it that dates back to a 2003 trip to Cuernavaca, Mexico with my former church when I learned of its prominent place in Liberation Theology – for those living in terrible poverty in Latin America.
After the name came to me I looked it up and realized that living by the Beatitudes is more called for at this time in human history than ever – at least since I’ve been alive. There is a paradox in them – the meek inheriting the earth – a defying of standard logic – that I felt in this image: Blessed are the late-season hydrangeas, though they are tattered and tired, they still are filled with color and illuminated by the light.
I tussled inside with whether I had the audacity to give a painting of flowers this piece of scripture as its name. As I was finishing it, I revealed my struggle with Sandy, one of the artists in our Friday group. Sandy is wise and awake and has a spacious heart. She told me I must go with it. I knew that I did – and it helped to be encouraged too. The name had come to me so early on, and had never left, throughout the weeks I worked on the painting. I’ve learned to accept and honor these messages – regardless of how much they challenge me.
January 2017
