Poppies on a Bowl

My mother recently gave me a bowl which was hand-painted with poppies floating down the sides and dripping over the edges. I have always loved poppies, but I'm not sure she knew that.

It just seems they have always been around. The modest yellow California ones filled the edges of Grandmother's garden and the big flamboyant red ones are a rare and exciting addition in family gardens or whenever I have spotted them (even when there are whole fields of them as in France!)

I don't know if it is the cheery sparkle of sunlight or the ruffled 'promness' surrounding the magical black-centers which touches me the most. I suspect it is the mystery of those luscious ones; the feeling that there's something about them I don't understand.

My painting of the windmills and the poppies has become a part of my permanent collection. It is one of our favorite paintings and was pronounced by Lucy as "art galleriable." Yet there are things in it which still surprise me.

Perhaps it is that magic which seems to separate the blooms from the foliage and makes them seem in competition whenever I paint stems and leaves under those resplendent shapes.

Perhaps it is because of the symbolism which is given by many cultures to such an ancient plant.

Perhaps it is simply that my Other Grandmother painted poppies on a bowl.

China bowl painted by AMS 1973
Anemos - 48 x 60 - oil/canvas - AAB

Text and images in BushStrokes (c) AAB
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