ALTHOUGH THE WIND

Thursday September 10th, noon - 7:00pm
September 10 - October 31, 2020

Last summer I was living on a farm on a small gulf island on the west coast and painting in the hayloft of an old barn. The barn was like a cathedral. Light and wind leaked through the wooden planks and swallows nested in the rafters, circling above me while I worked. The old woman who owned it lived in a house I could see from my window. She lived there alone. The farm had become overgrown, quiet. The bones of her cows were buried in the yard. I dug them up one day. Milking stools were strewn in the yellow fields. She recited the poem to me about the moonlight and the ruined house and I thought about the barn. How the wind howled through. How dying animals would find their way between the crooked planks to die in shelter. The smell of hay and resinous wood. How my sisters and I gathered there. How the vines strangled the sideboards. In those half remembered gardens, wildflowers emerge from psychedelic dreams, ripe fruits present themselves as spiritual offerings. The paintings are memories of sacred places I’ve been to or grown up near, on the island, surrounded by the sea. This is where the magic emanates from and where I long to be, where I imagine I am if I’m not.