Can you ever have too much purple? The answer to that is YES! When I was little, my favorite color was purple. I put a lot of thought into choosing my favorite color, it is a big commitment for a kid. You see, I was a well thought out semi-conformist, I liked to be part of everything but certainly in my own non-obvious way and pink was way too obvious a choice for a girl. I also wasn’t an outgoing, center of attention kind of kid, so yellow and orange were eliminated. Also ruled out were green, which in the right shade can be beautiful but also has way too many shades of yucky and blue was clearly set aside for boys. So purple it was. To show my commitment to my favorite color I hounded my dad to paint my bedroom a deep and intense color purple (much like the background of this painting). I love it…..for a good few years anyway. Isn’t it always the way though, that too much of a thing you love becomes a thing you hate. As I approached my teenage years I felt stifled by purple, suffocated by purple, and was very much relieved to move on to a turquoise blue and green room.
When science mimics nature
For this Friday instead of a flower I wanted to show you this photo I took of a brittle winter shrub I came across in Utah. I was attracted to the geometry of the branches, the different layers of focus and the contrasting segments of color that come together to form a very beautiful abstract image. Many things that scientists do can resemble this kind of picture. Some examples are the drawings of chemical structures consisting of different atoms and their bonds, or cells branching out to each other in a culture dish. This kind of picture reminds me that nature, science and art are intricately linked. I hope you can also appreciate the beauty in each of those. Happy weekend everyone!
A fleeting season
So this past weekend I woke up and realized I had completely missed Autumn. I remember at the start of Autumn (when the weather was still warm) I had this fun idea that I wanted to hire bicycles and ride from Manhattan to Randall’s Island (not that far away from where I live) and have a wonderful picnic on the water under the sun. Randall’s Island is a beautiful little area covered with green grass and flower gardens along the water. Mind you I don’t actually enjoy riding a bike, and absolutely hate doing it on Manhattan streets when taxi drivers are actively trying to kill you, but I thought the picnic worth the ride. So this weekend I decided that my husband and I absolutely must do this before the weather got any colder (8 degrees Celsius, 46 degrees Fahrenheit is by no means warm!). So we hired bikes and rode one block to the bike lane on First Avenue which to my dismay was closed for construction. We rode two more blocks to Riverside Park which has a paved bike path….also closed for construction (typical Manhattan). Even having only rode three blocks my ungloved hands were already frozen and I was in no mood for a picnic, especially not on a cold and unwelcoming island where the trees have been stripped of their leaves, leaving an expanse of colorless concrete (wow, it’s incredible how weather can change your mood so quickly!). So we walked the bikes back to the store, sheepishly returning them after only 15 minutes, and went back to our warm home and I sat down and painted Autumn instead.
A dreary Sunday
Here in New York we just experienced a very cold and bleak Sunday which was not worth leaving the house for. This Monday morning is equally dreary, depressing and cold. To combat the Monday morning blues, I want to share the painting I did yesterday. I set out to paint something so ‘hurt your eyes’ bright which could compensate for the lack of sunshine outside, and this pink daisy made my day. I hope it is enough brighten up your Monday!
We are each a Gemini to some extent. Everybody is made up of two people… the person that hides on the inside who bluntly tells us the truth, and the person we portray to the outside world, trying to control others perception of us after we have been heavily filtered. My inner and outer self often disagree, and have a healthy distaste of one another. Trapped to live their lives together, they constantly negotiate my thoughts and actions, my needs and wants. If only it wasn’t so hard to be the person I aspire to be… that carefree thinker, healthy minded, beautiful and intelligent person. But maybe I already am, and my inner self lies to me instead of telling the truth. How will I ever know who is real, and who is lying to me? Maybe we both are.
The Reading Chair
When I was a little kid, my mum used to take me to the library each week to pick out books that we would read together. For many of them I still remember the story, and I know that I will seek them out to read to my children one day. As a teenager I still loved to read, often choosing that over homework. Sadly since the start of my scientific career, I barely read for leisure anymore, there are only so many hours in a day. I do remember the excitement of curling up on the couch with a soft blanket, hot cup of tea and a brand new book. That new book smell and the crispness of the pages that sadly the next generation might not ever know. I also remember the disappointment when a great novel that I was really enjoying comes to an end. Well, I purchased a new book the other day, written by an author who publishes once a year, and each year I purchase her latest novel. I don’t want to start reading it because then it will inevitably end, so instead I am procrastinating with this painting and waiting for the perfect time to curl up with my book.
A hot and burnt landscape of fiery red hills with a river running dry. A lone brittle tree struggling to survive in a desolate and unforgiving environment. What chance does the tree have to flourish, when the land is so unsupportive of life…. Is this my future?
This painting took me a very long time to finish. Sometimes I feel like I have a certain idea in my head as to what I want to paint and then try to force that idea into a painting. This one had quite a few evolutionary changes along the way, and finally I had to stop fighting it and just allow it to be what it wanted.
Hopeful of Spring
This past weekend was a bit of a cold and ugly one in New York, so I didn’t get outside much. I was wishing for better spring weather, but it seems like winter is trying its best not to let go too soon. So instead I painted my own spring, just a fun, light and colorful piece to brighten up my weekend. I hope it brightens up your week too!
For You Mummy
This painting is designed to make us stop and remember the simplicity of what children find beautiful and interesting. As kids we’d collect sticks in different shapes and sizes, see colorful fences to climb on and blow dandelion seeds into the wind. As adults we see dead branches and weeds against a dirty old fence. An acknowledgement for the way that time and age changes us… We know more, and appreciate different things, but maybe sometimes we need children to remind us to appreciate the simpler things in life. To find a million exciting uses for those cardboard boxes, and instead of filling them with the meaningless material junk in our lives, we should go back to feeling like the kings and queens of our fortresses.
The Power Of A Wave
Every summer as I was growing up, my family would go on vacation to the central coast, about two hours north of Sydney. Much to our dismay, my dad would wake us up very early to go to the beach. His summer ritual was to spend ten minutes observing the waves, mapping out the ocean rip tides, and finally locating the perfect area of the beach to fish. Mum would sunbake and my brother would play in the sand. I would be mesmerized by the crashing waves, quite thunderous at this particular unpatrolled surf beach, in awe that water alone held so much power. My dad would always and too often remind me “don’t go in too far, because if a rip tide drags you out to sea, I am not a good enough swimmer to rescue you”. Those words, repeated to me too often, haunted me. My childhood was filled with the recurring nightmare about a Tsunami crashing over the land and sweeping everybody out to sea. After getting lost in the vast and never ending ocean, the dream would often reset, and the wave would come again, and again, and each time we desperately scrambled to outrun the water, but always unsuccessfully. Eventually, the panic would become too much, and I would wake up and exhale in relief that I was not drowning, and inhale realizing that I could breathe.