The Garden of Women oil on panel 2017-2018
Some of my paintings take a long time to complete---this is was one of them. Started early last year, when we lived in Santa Clara, California and the winters meant lush green clover under the olive trees and grey skies, I didn't finish the last glazes on the leaves until this month. We now live in Utah, where winter means whiteness, and the starkness of snow. But my memory, and my feelings, take me back to our long walks past the garden of women: the monastery garden of the Carmelite convent with its pink walls and dark fences. How boundaries fill one with longing. What is elusive is always mysterious, always dreamed of; the distant brought near.