Her

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Her (12″ x 12″ oil on gessoed panel)

Well, this sprang in part from the freedom and joy I felt painting the last botanical abstract and in part I dreamed her. It happens sometimes. I am often reminded of the Picasso quotation “inspiration exists, but it has to find you working” – definitely if I hadn’t painted that day, the image in my head would have floated away. The painting is strange and weird and I kind of love it.

Tom’s wonderful poem reads almost like a riddle.

She’s always there, within the lurking trees
about to surface, coming into light
where the forest stirs in absent breeze
and the darkness sparkles in the night.
Perhaps you’ll catch her passing swift behind
a walking shadow, dancing with an elf,
or vanishing before your very mind,
until you wonder, “Is that… or myself?”
Her eyes are watching all and seeing naught
but beauty where there’s nothing else to see:
she’s always there, but never seen nor caught
by merely mortal eyes within the trees.
She moves the world, although she does not move,
she is the First, by which all things are proved.

image (c) 2019 Hilary Farmer
poem (c) 2019 TJ Radcliffe

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Strange hybrids

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Strange hybrids (6″ x 6″ oil on gessoed cradle board)

I shamelessly took the name of this small oddity from the poem Tom wrote for it. Every now and then I am moved to paint what I think of as botanical abstracts. I love the colours and the way this one shimmers.

Tom ran with the image and created a delightful accompaniment for the painting. It even has bees’ knees in it!

The forest of the night is fine
with its flaming tyger’s shine
lighting up the trees.

But I prefer the copse of day
wherein strange hybrids grow and sway
attracting stranger bees.

They buzz within the thickets tangled,
with their legs is pollen wrangled
in between their knees.

Passing to each generation
the joys of novel combination,
mixing by degrees.

And from such vigor in the roots
we’re blessed by all the diverse fruits
that do our palates please!

image (c) 2019 Hilary Farmer
poem (c) 2019 TJ Radcliffe