Today was a perfect day, iridescent spider webs trailing from the skies and across my face on the way to work. The air was heavily scented with wisteria and lilac, all flooding through the open windows of my studio, mixing with the smell of linseed oil. NPR was talking about the secret lives of cats as seen though mini cat cams and I was finishing up a painting that my son has named End of Spring. I was taken with the melancholy beauty of this image when I first saw this photo by my multi-talented friend and novelist Christy Ann Conlin. She was generous to let me use it for a painting and although I should be prepping for Open Studio I’m so glad I dropped everything to do it. I love how this dead robin lying on a shovel transcends its profane circumstance and is elevated, literally and figuratively, to a vantage where we can experience a moment of wonderment at its life.
A soft, yet startling view of this robin’s last recline. The shovel it’s temporary coffin, also symbolic of the next & last stage….. digging a spot for burial for its final resting place. Robin redbreast lies starkly dimentional against the shiny-edged well-used shovel, as aging as, but not before its time, unlike the Robin’s most likely accidental demise. This painting, as many of your paintings has a profound story to tell. Well done, END OF SPRING.
Betty, I appreciate your response and insight into the painting. Most people tend to cringe when I say I’m painting a dead bird, though there are others who understand the fascination of witnessing a typically inaccessible, airborne creature up close.
The robin may be the real focus of this painting but I think the real key is the shovel. It represents a dual desire to keep death at arm’s length while feeling compelled to act upon it in some way. The glowing shovel is almost a halo around the bird if one is inclined to go that far.