This painting is based on a Barb Stork photograph of Sarah and two of her cousins. Since the meaning is obvious, I’ll just do some rambling of my own.
When I was young and on a summer amble, I’d often stand admiringly before a tree. By evening, when I’d finally put pencil to paper, the real tree had metamorphosed into an imaginary old man, with the intricate woody bark now changed into a network of wrinkled flesh and the insentient physical strength now turned contemplatively spiritual. “I see men as trees walking,” as it were. Now that I am old, this work shows my woeful inexperience in describing nature as itself. Hard as it is to tell, that’s supposed to be nature surrounding the children. Ah well! Maybe next time.