This work depicts the edge of the forest we could see from our window during the season we spent in the mountains of Western North Carolina. The woods are so dense, it's impossible to see past the edge. I am reminded of the idea I had as a small child, of an enchanted forest, dark and mysterious, but colorful at the edges, and vertiginously enticing. This is one of several paintings, large and small, in which I explored the forest from my balcony.
From the perspective of our house, the trunks of a small number of the trees on the edge of the forest caught the light and stood out white against the dark, impenetrable woods behind them. Their arrangement and uniqueness put me in mind of the Heliades, mythological Greek sisters who, having displeased a vengeful god, were turned into trees. It's an ambiguous story, and the punishment doesn't seem entirely fair to me, but in some ways it makes their presence at the edge of the woods seem comforting in a melancholy way.
This work depicts the edge of the forest we could see from our window during the season we spent in the mountains of Western North Carolina. The woods are so dense, it's impossible to see past the edge. I am reminded of the idea I had as a small child, of an enchanted forest, dark and mysterious, but colorful at the edges, and vertiginously enticing. This is one of several paintings, large and small, in which I explored the forest from my balcony.
From the perspective of our house, the trunks of a small number of the trees on the edge of the forest caught the light and stood out white against the dark, impenetrable woods behind them. Their arrangement and uniqueness put me in mind of the Heliades, mythological Greek sisters who, having displeased a vengeful god, were turned into trees. It's an ambiguous story, and the punishment doesn't seem entirely fair to me, but in some ways it makes their presence at the edge of the woods seem comforting in a melancholy way.