Bent, Defense of Dreamers

I have been pondering a painting.  I see it clearly in my mind.  I see a thin stand of young trees.  Young trees, like children, playfully move in random direction for no logical reason other than for joy. Behind the stand of tree, the autumn sun is low casting light, which streams through foliage.  The sun is blinding; it seems to devour a section of the trees. The far background I see a vast field and I see a straight peaceful horizon. 

Robert Frost wrote a poem that perfectly describes my boyhood and my current outlook.  The Poem is “Birches.”  In the poem Frost ponders the bent growth of birch trees within a stand.  Frost knows the likely brutal cause of the bending: ice storms however he prefers his idealistic outlook.  He prefers the cause to be a boy, who lived too far from town for baseball.   Though in the poem Frost defends idealistic romanticism he also uses the poem to recount his boyhood. As a boy Frost was a bender of trees. And so was I.

So, I am going to paint a stand of trees. The trees will be unique, special. They will be bent and turned standing against a straight horizon on a fall day.  And in the vastness of the field, I will place a person.  Viewers of the painting can create any story for the person. My story is that the person lives too far from the lights of town for baseball and he or she is enjoying the freedom and dreams that can only be found in a field.

“One could do worse than be a swinger of birches…..”

Frost