Sheltered Beyond Sunsets
Some mysteries gnaw; they bother, itch and drive toward solutions. Other mysteries invite reflection and imagination.
I see mysteries in this painting and like them. I want no answers. My eyes have roved over them repeatedly. I don’t assign them to lack of skill, which I truly could—and might even correct with time and effort. Instead, I embrace them as mysteries. I like the idea of shelter under a tree—without knowing who needs shelter or why. I like the warped perspective: at one spot the tree moves forward to fill its proper place in the foreground, at another spot the tree recedes and the sky comes forward, as if it were in front of the tree—which, from another point of view, it actually is. I like wondering if the figure under the tree is a woman, nine months pregnant, or a young farmhand with his knees drawn up toward his chin. Is the shadow along the ground a companionable dog, a pair of bent legs, a blanket or is it another person? I like not knowing. It reminds me of the Hidden Pictures in the Highlights Magazines of my childhood—but far more intriguing— for in this painting I get to decide what I see and to change my mind. I might even pretend a Narnian-switcheroo between worlds and some cold drab winter day, climb inside the frame to sit under the tree and rest in the setting sun.
