VIEW IN MY ROOM
Zinnia Print
United States
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Fine Art Paper
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12 x 8 in ($40)
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White ($80)
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About The Artwork
From my blog (beatricebeeflowers.blogpost.com): My grandparents' home sits in state on Pioneer Road in Weiser, Idaho. Aptly named as my grandfather was a true western pioneer who arrived in this country at age 16 at the tail end of the Civil War and eventually became one of Weiser's founding fathers. He built that place for his bride and there they raised their seven daughters, five of whom survived childhood. My mother was the youngest. I can still remember the smell of hay drifting over the meadows behind the house and the slap of the wooden screen door as I scampered out the kitchen to the garden, barefoot and armed with a salt shaker to gorge on warm, red tomatoes, fresh off the vine. Adjacent to the rows of tomatoes and cucumbers and green beans destined for the cellar shelves to live on as pickles and relish, were beds the length of the house filled with zinnias taller than me, which wasn't that difficult to do, but impressive nonetheless. I'm sure there were other flowers there as well but the zinnias have remained in my soul to this day. I can still feel the sun on my nose as I squinted up at their majesty. Only now have I had a home where they thrive. They signify so much to me. They are brash and strong and outlast all others that wither to mush in a heavy downpour. They are beautiful chameleons that can't quite decide if they want to be coral or pink so they decide to be both and then fade to a dignified mauve in old age. They endure beyond summer. Beyond autumn into the winter they give up their last seeds to hungry birds that rely on their generosity. I admire their altruism, their strength, their dignity. Last summer they were under assault by ravenous rabbits. Even then they outwitted their enemies and feigned defeat only to reemerge stronger than ever. It must have taken gumption to come to this country and make one's own way. I can only imagine my grandmother's first impression of the wild west her husband brought her to from her sleepy shire in Scotland. Looking at my sisters and all our children I can see the Fisher strength and determination living on, I hope a little of that trickled down into me. At the very least they gave me a great gift, a deep appreciation for this glorious flower that endures against it all.
Details & Dimensions
Print:Giclee on Fine Art Paper
Size:12 W x 8 H x 0.1 D in
Size with Frame:17.25 W x 13.25 H x 1.2 D in
Frame:White
Ready to Hang:Yes
Packaging:Ships in a Box
Shipping & Returns
Delivery Time:Typically 5-7 business days for domestic shipments, 10-14 business days for international shipments.
Handling:Ships in a box. Art prints are packaged and shipped by our printing partner.
Ships From:Printing facility in California.
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United States
I was the youngest of four girls and I was the one who took up my dad’s offer to go with him to the nursery or help him in his workshop. My childhood memories smell like bags of manure in the back of the station wagon and sawdust on the floor of the garage. My dad taught me how to deadhead spent flowers and how to use a drill and how to temper steel. He gifted me with a miter box one year and a box full of acrylic paints and brushes another year. As an engineer he was a frustrated artist but one who could paint with plants and outfit a 27’ sailboat, sails and all. He filled our lives with beautiful things and those things have continued to be important to me as well, especially flowers. And he gave me that box of paints. From Yankee stock, my dad saved scraps of wood. There was a pile I could pilfer for whatever project I wanted. In middle school I used them to paint stylized characters of girls with long legs and flowers, always flowers. When I paint flowers now it’s as if I am gathering them together on the canvas as a gift for someone. I try to summon those childhood memories to imbue all of their essences together: their smell, their velvet petals, their brilliant color (not so much the manure). I like to paint them powerful and in-your-face, filling as much of the canvas as I can so the viewer gets a bee’s eye view. And sometimes I paint them in isolation, sometimes waifs, sometimes powerful in their solitude. I think about my work as autobiographical in some ways. The flowers, certainly, but also the infrequent landscapes which usually document a passage of time and space like a move across country. And in the past several years children have reappeared in my work. Now part of my own expanded family. Definitely marking the passage of time. My process is quite deliberate. I start with an inspiration photo that I take with my phone; do some tweaking of the image in Photoshop and then create a detailed to scale canvas-sized newsprint drawing outlining important elements which I then transfer to canvas. I isolate the subject by filling in the background with a dark color then work section by section painting thin layers to develop the various elements of the piece. I use a stay-wet palette so that I can work slowly to build thin color upon thin color. I will do several glazes near the end of the process. My last task is to complete the background, neatening errant brushwork, etc. I like short handled brushes and my rolling stool.
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