This is not what I normally choose to paint. But last year around this time I ignored the bright colors on my palette to work in the grays and browns of the midwest winter I lived in. These heavy moody colors were what this image demanded but it also exactly reflected what was going on in my life. My husband had received a bleak diagnosis for colorectal cancer. It seemed like the final knockout blow after a long couple of years of beatings from health, financial and employment struggles. So painting this picture of a wild tree - probably honeysuckle- growing through and around the cement and rebar by an abandoned train track seemed perfect. Besides the fact that my insides were as gray and dark as this picture, this image was from a place I grew up - Youngstown, Ohio. Not many people know much of Youngstown beyond the fact that it was once a thriving steel town, known for it’s mafia element and a couple of boxing champs. Much of its glory seemed to reside in the distant past. But this was my world, my home and I didn’t know it was a depressed and bleak part of the country, because quite simply it wasn’t for me. It wasn’t until years later when I left, did I understand how Youngstown was perceived. And I have to say this painting really is the perfect visual description of a person born in the steel belt - shaped and formed by the industry and challenges of a blue collared working community, but never defeated. In fact, steel and iron CAN be moved by the slow steady growth of a tree. Look at those cracked sidewalks where the roots of large old trees grow underneath and create mountain ranges of sidewalks. Cement doesn’t stand a chance.
After spending weeks drawing and working through the details of the picture and transferring it to a large 24 inch by 30 inch piece of watercolor paper, I could see that all those little branches were signs of a plant still alive but dormant in the winter months. This tree was alive even though it looked dead. Dead as the cement and as old as the rusted rebar and train tracks. But it was alive and spring would come. Soon no steel or cement would even be visible. By the time I finished this painting I was able to see and even grow into the strength I knew that was deep inside me in order to face whatever results the biopsy presented. I am from Youngstown afterall.
To me this painting reminds of the raw unglamorous strength it takes to live and grow. I’m very proud of this watercolor. Proud that I grew up in Youngstown in all of its plain ol’ midwest glory - full of rich deep color and texture.
More details about this watercolor here.
