12" x 36"
Acrylic on Canvas
This piece is about aspiration, and the importance of noticing the beauty of the bleakest winter.
I have never been to Hokkaido. I have never seen wild cranes in flight. This is perhaps a tad surprising given my professional gypsy life, my devotion to Kintsugi, the fact that the first book I ever snuck from my father’s grown-up library was Shogun. I find that when I fall in love with the idea of a place, I postpone visits to that destination. Like a travel ascetic, I withhold massive pleasures from myself.
Case in point – when I was a young girl, I vowed to go to Paris only with the love of my life. I avoided it assiduously, which is just hilarious given that I studied French. While living in France. I did not go when a potential romantic partner begged me to, I didn’t go when my bestie lived in Paris. I finally went in 2015. With my child.
I can stubbornly hold on to the joy of anticipation for as long as possible.
Paris with my daughter was nothing like a scene from Amelie. Hokkaido, when I finally go, will be nothing like the Hokkaido of my imagination. I know that despite the monogamous romance myths around cranes, they “divorce” all the time. I know that projection and hope can be disappointing. Nevertheless, I need to hope.
This piece is about the beauty of winter, blue bird skies resonating with the force of migrating crane wings. It is about having the courage and innocence to dream and soar in the dark. Even when you know that life is fleeting, and expectations disappoint.