Monday, November 2, 2020

 




Pomona

Limited edition of 50, archival ink jet print, 11/2/2020

Sometimes, I wish that I was a tree.  No, I dont, for I am contented with my life as a human.  But, trees are some of my best friends.  The big trunked oaks around my home, pine trees, fruit trees, I could go on and on about my love for trees.  

There is a large oak here, must be six feet in diameter and i dont know how tall, 60 feet, 80 feet tall?  This is Grandmother tree.  Sometimes, I leave her offerings in a knot of the trunk.  

Another tree is Great Grandmother tree.  In the eighteen years that I have been here she has suffered from decrepitude of old age.  Large branches have fallen off during storms. She is covered with trumpet vines, embellished with orange flowers. The trunk is hollow, some critter lives in there.  An armadillo?  She perseveres, hanging onto life, in the middle of a mown field, between two creeks.  She has immense character, unusual beauty. 

Another tree is Dragon Tree.  A swamp Tupelo that has a 20 foot long, undulating, dragon like root at the edge of the creek.  

Tree women,  women integrated with trees, have tended to reappear in my art practice for decades.  

Pomona is a sacred wood nymph in ancient Roman mythology.  There were sacred groves of fruit trees dedicated to her in ancient Rome.



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