I always talk to trees, and they talk back. I have had tree friends whom I have known over the years. They bring comfort and quiet. They bid us to sit and be still. "Listen." They whisper. Sir Isaac Newton was doing just that when he got docked on the noggin by an acorn. Or was it a pomegranate? "Splat!!", end of day dream. There goes the three laws of motion.
It has been said that in Washington state, not long ago, every cedar tree touched every other. When you wander in the rain forests here, you can believe it.
I began this painting as a sketch of an oak tree in Tehachapi, California. I didn't know where to go with it, so I just played with the branches. I painted a couple of limbs, and then put the painting away. Then months later, I did a couple more. A couple of years later...three more branches...and so on for years. Finally I realized that I wanted to live inside the tree, which had become autobiographical (a self portrait). So I added the door. Then I was done.
I titled this painting, Waiting for Spring in the House of Leaves. Notice, there is not a leaf on the tree. But the potential for jillions of leaves is on the verge...like waiting for art. Or life.