“Root and Flower” is the third in a series exploring the sacred space between souls. It reflects on the threshold where difference becomes harmony.
The underpainting was the most fun, built through somewhat reckless, organic strokes. Three of us studio rats took part in it, my assistant Whitney, myself, and my five year old. At one point, I even held him upside down while he made his marks. If that’s not giving up control, I don’t know what is.
And that was the goal… to let go… something that felt nearly impossible earlier in my career, when I was convinced that if I could just master and control every line and stroke, baby Jesus would kick open the pearly gates, hand me the keys, and say, “nice work son… you’re the best painter ever.” Still waiting on that one.
“Root and Flower” considers the balance between forces that are distinct, yet interdependent. The masculine root reaches deep to anchor, while the feminine opens toward the light, each relying on the other to fulfill its purpose. Like a tree drawing life from soil and sun, the roots gather nourishment from the earth while the flower carries that life into the world. Only together can it truly flourish.
The masculine remains steady, almost secondary, as if it has always been there. The feminine moves with openness and ease, her gesture not one of restraint, but of choice. She is not held in place, but held in trust.
