Sky and Hillock

Here's a spot I often pass while jogging.  On one flank, outside of the frame, is a modest highway.  On another there's a railway track and on another a thinned-out elbow in a river.  Over the hills is a dump and abattoir, filled by a steady stream of passing trucks.  You can see powerlines on the horizon in the painting if you look carefully.  The closest home is a few kilometres away.  So it's a bit of a dead zone.

But here, this spot, with its scraggly trees refusing to go anywhere, the light on the unkempt bushes and grass, the snow which hasn't quite overtaken everything, and the sky with its hues of purple, orange, and turquoise, is homey and heartening and beautiful to me.

From the poem "For my Father" by E.B. Voigt:

Turning from a loss,
as if turning from an open window,
its local composition:
limbs juxtaposed against the sky,
juncture of sky and hillock,
the stark debrided tree.

36" x 48"
Mixed media on panel


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