The pine trees called out

May 29, 2012
I was considering moving on with my painting and using a more contemporary idiom: after all it did not offer a major difficulty. Keep up with the art world…but on a car ride up in the mountains above Tarchish where the pine trees cut out parasol shapes into the pure blue sky, these elegant creatures rising on the sides of our glorious mountains called out to me. NO! No! Who will be recorder of the emotions we stir up in hearts and souls? Who will transmit our proud bearing, the harmony of colours between Earth, Plants, Trees and Sky? When all will be smothered in cement, how will people remember the bushes and the wildflowers, the scent of thyme and wild lavender, the movement of birds fluttering among our branches? How will the youth of tomorrow know what was there before? Already it is almost too late…