Seven years ago I installed a birdhouse high up and just outside my bedroom window. This spring birds moved in. I saw them stashing in stuff for a nest. I felt so honored and excited that they trusted me enough to settle. When I slept I sensed them resting too and sent fondness to my bird tenants, expectant for their eggs to hatch like family.
In 2006 on the way to my Chelsea studio I had rescued a fallen fledgling sparrow from the wheel of an SUV. Achieving, running around, building, designing, even painting became all at once secondary to the magnitude and supreme beauty of nature. In the days that followed the little bird got stronger. I fed it baby food and water from an eyedropper. One morning there were no chirps. Little bird was laying down. I scooped it up in my hands. It was dying. I felt the enormity of its life force. When it took its lasts breaths of life in my hands, tears streamed down my face.
I made a painting called SPARROW DREAM. That’s the thing about painting you can paint the intangible, you can make the breeze visible, you can paint the story of your heart being opened to be comprehended in one glance, even before you do fully.
Yesterday as I rolled out my door I glanced up at my birdhouse to see Daddy sparrow bring his little chirping glories worms and things to eat in his beak. Now the baby birds are born my heart feels more than ever opened. That is the ultimate anniversary gift!
Top painting – Sparrow Dream 2006
Below painting – The Wind, 2005