Irises Again, 14 x 11, oil on canvas panel.
My daughter sacrificed these irises for me, even though she didn’t have that many in her garden. Like me, she gets excited every year when they finally bloom.
I meant to paint them fresh in the vase, but by the time I got to them they had wilted. The petals were curling in on themselves, yet they were still beautifully regal. So I worked from the dried flowers, a photograph of the fresh flowers taken two days earlier, and the memory of every late-spring iris I have enjoyed.
The painting became an assembly of bloom, decay, memory, photograph, and something else. The richness of growing older and being grateful for however many more springs I will be surprised by irises.
Then I went back in and changed the background. The original was a cool violet, which wasn’t working. After several attempts with grays, I realized the painting needed more contrast in temperature: a warm taupe-y gray. With that, the irises finally had a way to sing.
I used to think going back into a painting after the fact was a kind of cheat, and that the whole painting should evolve and conclude at once. But I’m changing my mind. Sometimes you have to change the background story even after it has cured into place, so the present moment can sing.