Harvesting Time
- Jul 8
- 3 min read
This is what my husband named my latest framed piece.
He cannot draw, not in the traditional sense. But he has a mind that is as conceptual as the training in my art classes that I contemplated in my 4 years of "what is art" university.
That's one of my favorite things about him. And you would never think this about him until you get to know him.
On my way home, I generally take River Bend Road. It ends on a hill, where I am at a stop sign, angled high-nose in the air, looking up at a field. What used to be a beautiful rolling field of cows, is now, not so much. There is another neighborhood being built at the end of River Bend.
There WAS a neighborhood being built?
There will be one, maybe?
I say this because the construction had stopped awhile ago. In fact, 4 feet of long grass ago. That's when I pulled up to the same stop sign, on my same route home, but stopped in awe. The grass was so high, and so golden in color–not orange, not yellow–and the sky was so unbelievably blue, with a few clouds showing, and only the tops of trees popping up in the background.
I knew at that moment I needed to draw this sight. That was it. I can't explain it. Some how, some way, it was going to be drawn. So here it is.
I am not a realism painter or drawer. But I like things to be recognizable. I seem to love drawing lines (oh so many lines!) that add up to shapes and colors. You can see the thousands of scratch lines when you see this piece up close.
This even started as a watercolor painting, then there are layers upon layers of color pencil marks of many different colors. That's why my drawings tend to end up with a shiny surface, from the layers of waxy pencil.
I created this for a submission to an art show for a medical center. The theme, Healing Arts. Initially I did not have an idea, but I wanted to share this serene sight. I know I can get meditative staring at artwork. Hopefully this view will be helpful to someone needing a scary procedure, someone worried about a diagnosis, someone, wishing they didn't need to be at a medical center...
This almost didn't come about. This almost did not get submitted. As of right now, I am not even sure if it got accepted.
With any submission, the piece needs to be named. That includes being title: "Untitled." But I did not want that. There's where my husband comes in.
He's named paintings before. Sometimes there is a slight hidden humor. Most times, something clever. We can get into intense discussions with this naming process. I ultimately choose. But damn, he's good and I loved the name Harvesting Time.
It took me a split second to decide this is perfect and to know that he wasn't meaning harvesting wheat. That's what I love about it.
I am guilty of wasting time. I am guilty of having moments where I do not know the best way to spend it. Sometimes it is okay to be in quiet. Sometimes, loud with friends. But there is no question we are living in a time where, in my opinion, we waste it more than ever.
This leads me to another topic I will address later. It's about social media. I've signed off of it for the most part.
"But Deanne, I saw this painting posted on Facebook..." Yes. But let me explain–in another blog on another day.
Harvesting Time.
I need to go do that.
This post and its grammar errors are 100% my own. I am not interested in using AI for my blog. I am trying to look for a way to do my blogs without typing. This is a weak point for me. So much so, I remember graduating from high school saying "I'll never need to know how to type..." Enter–today's world. I obviously did not forecast that well!
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