Blog

This is a scene on the (correctly spelled) Suwannee River in Florida. My daughter Julia and I had spent several days paddling our canoe through the Okefenokee Swamp on narrow waterways carved through the peat bogs, past numerous alligators, to emerge at last into the Suwannee, for which the swamp is headwaters.

For the first couple of days the river was lined with cypress trees, whose roots, exposed by the river, were intertwined in tangled confusion. The scene was peculiarly erotic, and I kept seeing group after group of cypress wrapped—and rapt—in loving embraces. I longed to be a member of such a group.

This is one of a few water paintings of mine in which several people have expressed interest. I believe that these paintings attract people by their prettiness, but there is more to them; they aspire to a deeper significance. The failure is mine for not sharing more about my own intentions and meaning.

Artists are, to varying degrees, subject to subtle thoughts, feelings and images that flit through the mind and subliminally direct their choice and execution of works of art. Personally, I am drawn to art that shows more of the artist’s head and heart than a display of proficiency. I’d like to believe that I can tell from a finished piece where its producer’s head was at, but sometimes I, too, need to be told. I’m not at all unhappy about that; it underscores the importance of these blogs, and suggests optimistically that this effort of mine will lead to community.

Blackwater Reflections is an example of a work of art that offers symbols of feelings. We recognize that those roots are not feeling a yearning for bonding, nor that the painting itself feels such a yearning. And it’s not necessary for you, the viewer, to be suddenly overwhelmed with a new wish to connect with loved ones. You could, I suppose, look at this painting as autobiographical, but that is not necessary either. I don’t need to have a feeling to represent it.

We can, however, regard this piece as symbolizing the primal comfort in connection.

I see a close family group, well rooted, strong, nourished by earth and water, in a secure surrounding, and I recognize a feeling that is loving, almost erotic, peaceful, and secure. I can’t say that I set out to represent those feelings, and you may see others, but this is where we wound up. My intention is irrelevant, except for the intention to produce a painting that you enjoy.

This is what I hope happens: When we first set eyes on the painting, we alight on the water, due mostly to its highly saturated color. The diagonal of the riverbank leads us up the river to the higher contrast between the lighter green and the dark reflection of the shaded tree, where the texture of horizontal waves transitions to a similar texture of vertical roots. Up the tree, enjoy the profusion of smaller branches and trunks, but ultimately we cross over the picture plane along the dominant limb, and meet a bough and trunk coming from the right. If the bough doesn’t arrest us, the larger trunk does. Down we go toward the right edge of the scene, completing an arch; and through that arch we view a pleasant glade, almost like the promise of a kind future. The wedge shape of the earthen riverbank leads us back to the base of the big cypress, but we are free to take another dip in the cool, shiny river any time.

My point in going through all that analysis is that it takes more for this painting—any painting—than subject matter to indicate its deeper meaning. But I may have written too much already. Your turn. Does the structure of this painting support the mood suggested by the subject matter?