why paint flowers? i've been wrestling with this question for months as the gremlins in my head that tell me flowers are trite, unimportant, and corny. i'm getting better at telling those gremlins to get lost, but i'm left with the question: why paint flowers?
(to be clear, i appreciate the gremlins raising the question in the first place! it's an important question for me to consider.)
the story in my family goes, i think (my mother will correct me if i'm wrong), that my grandfather brought fresh flowers to my grandmother every day that she was pregnant with my mother. it's in my genes then, the power of flowers to elevate the everyday - and it's my story now.
the beautiful (what is beauty?), perfect (what is perfection?), fleeting (time marches on), delicate (and hardy), colorful, light seeking, wild growing, cultivated and conquered, quirky, paradoxical, symbolic story of flowers.
let's start there, it's as good a place as any.