doanart

Last week was a very difficult week for me. I started the week out digitally editing of some images of mine, for an upcoming show in May. I moved from simple formatting changes like size and color correcting, to taking an older watercolor I had that was damaged and digitally painting over it to fix it. I posted the image for you to see. By mid-week was starting to feel unsettled, unfocused, my energy was erratic and I felt restless. At night, when I slept, I felt waves of doom overcoming me. I woke up one morning with my left arm so completely numb that I could not move it or feel it at all. I had to lift it with my right arm and move it aside so I could get up. That happened to me twice in the same day.

I started to realize that I probably needed to spend less time doing digital art and more time doing brush, watercolor and ink art. So, I believe it was Wednesday when I sat down and started to work on the watercolor of Bridgit’s Sacred Spring. Almost immediately I started to feel my energy settle, I felt focused and calm once more.

Then the sound of chainsaws interrupted me. I looked out the window by which I paint, and saw the row of trees that line the back line of my parents property begin to fall. The owner of the land behind us has decided to cut down the 40 or more trees that separate his cornfield from the backyards. These trees are of varying ages, the oldest being 20 years old. Some of the trees were over 50 feet tall. They were homes and shelter to many animals. The trees encouraged various birds to visit our yard and the feeders that we hung from them. In a matter of days, all the trees were gone. The event was so shocking that I could not paint. The sound of the chainsaw buzzing and the cracking of huge limbs was too horrific to hear, let alone witness. The next morning, I tried to paint, but only was able to work for a couple of hours before the chainsaws began their awful roar once again.

I have since learned that the property owner is planning on turning this field, which has been a crop field for well over 100 years, into a housing development. My whole family, saddened by the loss of the trees, are close to devastated. My father is now talking about moving. The view that I have out my window of open fields lined with trees, where deer, turkey and fox run, where hawks and vultures soar above, where crows caw and song birds sing will become a patchwork of houses and lawns. It will become an environment full of chemicals, where people will complain at the animals who wander dazed in their yards, confused about what had happened to their homes and food source. More bees will die due to pesticides and loss of habitat, more species will become scarce and disappear from the community entirely.

I understand that a crop field is not entirely natural, but it is much more pleasing and peaceful to look out upon that a grouping of houses full of people, cars, and noisy lawnmowers. (In a housing development that is not needed, when there are many perfectly good houses in the town down the street sitting empty waiting for new owners to move in.) There was something magical at hearing the wind blow through the cornstalks and at watching the deer move through the field at night, not to mention the majestic trees that stood guard at the perimeter of the field. At times, I really believe I can feel my heart breaking. To compensate for the loss of the trees and the impending loss of nature, I have joined my mother in a volunteer training program to become a Tree Steward. We began our training last night, and though it was great to begin, it was a bit bittersweet as we learned such interesting facts about the benefits of the trees that we just lost behind our home.

Friday started out to be a better day, as the rain and wind deterred the chainsaws from tearing up what remained of the fallen trees. I painted for several hours and it was nice to have some time to work in peace, though my mood is still rather somber. Unfortunately, the day, which was actually a nice rainy spring day, sadly didn’t improve much over the days before. As I headed out in the early afternoon I discovered the sidewalk in front my parents and the neighbor’s houses covered with strange little yellow and white pebbles. I picked one up and felt it slightly burn my fingertip, I dropped it and saw on the lawn next to the sidewalk a little yellow sign that said: “DO NOT ENTER. PESTICIDE APPLICATION. CAUTION PETS AND CHILDREN” I turned to watch all the little pebbles of poison blow in the wind, across the sidewalk, into my parents yard, across the road, and into the air.

I am very afraid, that there is A LOT of work ahead of us before we are anywhere near living in a healthy world . I am going to try my best to refocus, get back to painting and do more research and writing, to try to help educate people about the dangers of their actions and the beauty of the living things on the planet that are disappearing rapidly.

I hope to be back on track this week, newly motivated by this local tragedy, to continue to produce art that is not only nice to look at, but informs as well. I am determined to find a way to turn these events into something hopeful and positive. It will take some doing, but it is what I must do. I could not be satisfied, nor would I feel like I was respecting our relationship as artist and collector, if I didn’t find a way to make this into something worthwhile.