by David R. Darrow
13-7/8" x 8" (35.2cm x 20.3cm)Oil on Canvas Panel
This painting is not framed
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About This Painting
This may seem a little odd, and I want to assure you I have not slipped into "my dark period..." This is just a slightly different approach to finding and representing beauty in everyday things.
On my first morning in my new place, I awoke to find this bird on my balcony, at the foot of the sliding glass doors. She likely died on impact, trying to fly through what she thought was an open passage, instead coming to this unforeseen conclusion.
I stared for a moment, then muttered aloud, sadly but somewhat understandingly, "Didn't see that coming, did you?"
I thought briefly about how to properly dispose of this beautiful but lifeless creature and suddenly flashed on a time when my oldest sister Jan helped me put to rest my pet hamster. I was 12; she was 18.
Late that night I was awakened by noise under my bed, and when I peeked under, I saw that the escaped hamster had met his demise via a higher link on the food chain, our cat.
Jan helped me coax the 'toy' away from the cat, and then she prepared a shoebox lined with tissue into which to lay its body for disposal. We both wanted a little diginity for the little fellow under such otherwise humbling circumstances.
All this flashed through my mind as I gathered up the bird. It was right about at that moment that I decided I would do a painting about this...
I see metaphors... they're everywhere. Sometimes they don't even know they're metaphors.
Death had come to us both.
I had slept in my new place only once and, on my first morning, this is what I awoke to. Far from being 'creeped out' I just felt what I felt... there are times in life when you start off on something wonderful and just don't see how it's going to end.
Four years ago, I stood on a beach marrying the woman I was sure was the love of my life, my closest friend, the woman I wanted holding my hand when I passed from this life. From there, on that clear, sunny day I could not have seen the actual conclusion that lay ahead in the distance. Today I live alone.
Unlike this bird, though, my life is not over. I've found a new place to live. A new place to paint. A new place to think. To move on.
But it is very still, and very quiet now. ◙
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3 comments:
Good luck during your new transition, David. Glad to see you're back at it. This is lovely and elegant (though dark). Some things are inevitable, aren't they? ~KK
David, how eloquent this painting and these observations are. We can't escape grief. You seem to have had a bit too much of it though, recently. I wish you the best in your journey to a new place both physically and mentally.
Wow, I was so moved when I saw this wonderful rendition of a once and still beautiful bird. I have rushed many little hummingbirds and sparrows to the ER at the demise of my little grey kitty, 'Little Mouse'...(the irony!) and have on each and every occasion wondered how to send them on their newfound journeys to 'the other side' or heaven as many would have it. All of the emotion I felt for these beautiful little creatures came back to me as I gazed upon this painting of a simple lifeless object layed upon a napkin. Thank you, David. You have tought me that we can make something beautiful out of everything life shows us. -Annabelle, Raleigh, NC
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