A Tree Within

Most of my childhood friends wanted to be doctors, football players or train engineers when they grew up. Nobody wanted to be an artist. I didn’t either; I wanted to be a tree.

As it turned out, I grew up to be an artist, but I managed to grow a tree inside myself. Romanie must have an inner tree as well. (Probably a lot of trees, judging from how often they appear in her paintings.)

The tree in her painting magically opened the memory of my distant childhood desire, and in turn, the memory opened the door into a dream: the tree inside me burst through my skin and filled the sky like an enormous cloud. The curved shapes of the cloud were like red leaves, like pomegranate seeds, like flames, like teardrops.

When I woke up from the dream, I made a cup of tea and took a shower. Then I picked a pomegranate from the tree near the back door of my house. That was a few days ago. Since then I have been drawing clouds and pomegranates and the tree. Perhaps the drawings will turn into a painting of the cloud-tree of my dream. Perhaps.

Whatever the case, thanks, Romanie, for your beautiful inspiration.

(Inspired by painting #5)