#7 ART IS LIFE

We have been here in the wine country for the summer months, it is screeching into autumn and still we are here. I take note of this because it is a temporary location, not my usual habitat. I'm packing for the city, eager to say farewell and go it alone.

Since we have been here the trees in the yard have yielded oranges, lemons, pears, peaches, apples, plums and persimmons. None of the fruit tastes exactly like what you are used to from the grocery store. It all has an unfamiliar flavor that makes you wonder about soil composition and air; things I do not as a rule, think about.

We have a small yard where we are staying with two junk cars, one abused pickup, a rotting boat, several rusty bikes with flat tires, broken patio furniture, some old cupboards and the remains of various unfinished projects. Interspersed amongst the discarded metal the fruit trees flourish despite the less than eco-friendly environment. What one has to do with the other, you may ask--or not--is my small point; something to do with organics coexisting with industrial decomposition. Life and death, if you will tolerate such banality. But let's move on.

There has been plenty of fruit for eating and if so desired, for baking. I made my favorite apple pie and a peach tart, both thoroughly riveting. My secret: Butter crust, unadorned fruit with just enough sugar to balance any tartness edging into sweet ever so slightly. Cinnamon for apples only.

We also use the fruit as models for still-life painting. They pose for hours without a complaint. I try to capture their exact color(s), and more subjectively, their mood. In this I portray the essentialness of say, a pear, if all goes well. Let's face it, it's not the most complicated thing to draw fruit so a painter can concentrate on complexity through color and the dissonance within. For this you have to relax and allow things to happen.

The fruit in a visual composition, as in a pie, whether a pear or a persimmon, does not require precision or fuss, and here is where art enters of its own accord--a simple portrayal of a piece of fruit can glow like the Madonna or shimmer like Napa's sun-washed fields. A homemade pie, while not art per se, can take away those junkyard blues and restore an easy countenance.