ING: In Time For Superbloom

Superbloom came early this year in Southern California due to the heavy rain. Although I do not see the poppies directly from where I live, I still had plenty of dandelions and green hills around me. The hills as I see them from my backyard are brown most year round, and seeing them so abundantly green made me wonder how it feels to walk amongst those fields. Certainly, the models of the Impressionists might know, and have suffered the allergies that come with them. Monet's Poppies is apt for this season, and I bring it to you in a manner of reflection and adoration.

Claude Monet, Poppies, 1873. Oil on canvas. Musée d'Orsay, Paris.

I first saw this painting in a children's book when I was five. It was a book about flowers and spring, written to excite children as opposed to teach them any sort of art or culture. In my case, it ended up being didactic anyways as I recognized it years later in my undergraduate Art History textbook and class notes. Since then, this painting has held a special place in my heart as a remnant of my childhood, and a sign of my hometown.

The painting is a work of oil on canvas, and is of course filled with the detailed brushwork signature to the identity and legacy of the impressionists. Just look at the cloudy brushes of green reeds, cattails, and blossoms, to the point where you can't tell where one stalk ends and another begins. Just like real life, just like the view outside my window, the cloudy and soft waves of nature have been captured and instilled onto a flat surface. And the blooms peek out ever so gently, yet of course starkly, in between those clouds and waves. These fields visually terminate around the two-thirds upwards of the canvas, continuing upwards as they transform into forest-green trees and finally white, fluffy clouds and blue sky. Clouds above, and clouds below, simply of different color, but of same origin. Both of nature. The nature that we are killing, resulting in the heavy storms and floods that brought those poppies early to us and to my eyes. Ironic.

As we enjoy the flowers and thriving of nature around us this spring, may you reflect on the peaceful beauty of nature, but also on the sad catalysts of these blooms. Poppies brought about a reflection of my childhood, my school days, and of the last time I recycled. Let's keep going. Walk through those flowers like the mystery maiden and her child companion.