The work in “We are still in Eden” was created in the isolation of pandemic. Safely sequestered as I was, the uninterrupted time in nature and studio proved an unexpected gift.
Unable to travel to Venice, I instead imagined myself rowing there. Somehow, in paint, I could almost be that strong Venetian oarswoman I’d fantasized becoming.
And outside my studio door, I rediscovered the local landscape. Though daily we are measuring the losses and threats to our fractured world, we can still find hope and light in a few inches of forest floor. The stillness of isolation brought new meaning to the painter Thomas Cole’s 1836 warning: “We are still in Eden.”
Unable to travel to Venice, I instead imagined myself rowing there. Somehow, in paint, I could almost be that strong Venetian oarswoman I’d fantasized becoming.
And outside my studio door, I rediscovered the local landscape. Though daily we are measuring the losses and threats to our fractured world, we can still find hope and light in a few inches of forest floor. The stillness of isolation brought new meaning to the painter Thomas Cole’s 1836 warning: “We are still in Eden.”
We are still in Eden
