At the End of a Road in Tuscany

I've been painting a good bit so far in June. We started off June at Disney World in Orlando. June 1st was our "day off" after visiting all the parks the previous five days. So part of my family spent the day at Universal Studios, another part played Frisbee golf, another part went to shoot sporting clays at a local gun club, and I stayed at the condo and painted.

As I looked through the photographs that I'd printed out to use as references, I decided to paint a scene from our trip to Italy in March. I wanted to paint the little church out in the country with the overgrown steps going up the side, and with a forsythia in full bloom behind a tree. I remember when Ron and I drove down that little road, we saw the old church, and we drove past it, we saw the steps - vines and moss growing over the steps - and the top was obscured.  Then, from the side of the steps, peeping out from behind a tree, was the forsythia. Forsythia has always been one of my favorite flowers. It seemed to be a metaphor for new birth amidst the old and neglected.

Here is the finished painting, and I have the say, this painting is near the top of my all-time favorite paintings that I've done. When I was adding the lighter yellows to the forsythia bush, I realized that the bush is right smack in the middle of the painting - a big no-no in the art world . . . except I like it in this painting. I know the rule - I broke the rule.  When I started painting the scene, I thought of the steps as the focal point - and I had them exactly where I wanted them - off center.  However, as I painted the forsythia bush, I realized that it had become the true focal point rather than the steps. So I'm pleased as I can be with this painting - and I'm happy I broke that rule.  :-)

At the End of a Road in Tuscany, oil on 12x16 linen

And, of course, since I loved this scene so much and since it means so much to me, I wrote a poem to go with it:

 At the End of a Road in Tuscany

At the end of a road in Tuscany

Beside a neglected church made of stone

We found steps leading to an upper room

With tangled vines and moss overgrown

At first they appeared alone and forgotten

Abandoned - as seems often with the old

Yet peeking out from a tree at its side

Forsythia bloomed in yellows and gold

Such is this life as our years increase

We often grow weary and battle worn

But off to the side, we look and we find

A new springtime waiting to be born

~Mary Carol, June 2019~