The color palette of Andrew Wyeth's work is subdued, as is his imagery... and his work has been dismissed by critics as sentimental, provincial and illustrative.
Occasionally I feel a slight tug deep inside of me, as if my heart is being squeezed, and there's a
flash of gratitude and love for something so much bigger than me. It
can be triggered by almost anything outside: a puddle, mountains, clouds, a raven hanging above
me on a summit, a circle of lichen on a tree, the scent of sun-warmed
dirt and pine needles, a silhouette of weeds; I don't even need to be hiking for this to
happen, sometimes it's just while driving and catching a brief glimpse of the
surrounding environment as it flashes past. It's something profoundly simple, beautiful and
evocative. Something that makes my soul ache.
In other words, what I am trying to tell you is that while by society's
standards I may be hopelessly single... I realized recently that I am in
the best goddamn relationship of my life and it's with dirt and rocks
and trees and sky. Thank you Andrew Wyeth, for your visual reminder of
the visceral reaction that even ordinary surroundings can evoke... if
you love them enough.
Trodden Weed, The Carry and Ice Pool by Andrew Wyeth. Images sourced here and here. Solzhenitsyn quote sourced from an excellent blog post about Wyeth found here.