Little Voice

Red Byrd, by Judith Kolva

True confessions: With all due respect to my Florida friends, I’m not a Floridian. Sure, I lived in Florida nineteen too-long years. But Florida, along with its hot, hotter, hottest weather, wasn’t my place in the world.

You see, I grew up in Michigan; lived eighteen years in Maine; another six in Ohio; and two more in Colorado. I love, love, love the four seasons—spring’s gentle splash; summer’s sizzle; fall’s spectacular show; even winter’s fury.

Well, in 2018 my husband, Chuck Schwabe, and I relocated from Florida to Hendersonville, North Carolina and—FINALLY—I once again celebrate four seasons.

That said my paintings are usually bold, colorful, large abstracts. I love them. Then one rainy, cold, gray day Lucie and I were working away in our studio when my little voice said, “Hey, you! Try something different. Something soft. Something seasonal.”

I know my little voice well enough to realize if I don’t listen, she won’t shut up. So I pulled out a small canvas and mixed up a pallete of soft colors. “Now what?”

My little voice whispered, “Trees.”

“TREES? I can’t paint trees,” I said.

“TREES!” This was her big girl voice.

So I experimented, and experimented, and experimented some more. I smeared gesso over one canvas, after another, after another.

It took persistence and patience, but eventually soft, seasonal trees appeared. A wise artist once said, “If you want remarkable, paint ten more.”

So I continued to paint TREES!—soft, seasonal trees—until I created a series.

I call my series, “Sounds of Silence.”

Thanks, little voice.

PS: Red Byrd is part of my “Sounds of Silence” series.

SHHHHH . . . .