Winter Corn
Andrew Wyeth
1948
Andrew Wyeth
1948

Sprouts poke through earth,
children eager to heed the sun's instruction.
Lanky summer youths in fine array
beckon in the breeze,
"Come dance, come play,"
before yielding a golden harvest
in the softening autumn light.
Battered, chapped,
winter sentries
wearily hold formation,
waiting to be felled,
their remains shrouded
beneath a chenille blanket of snow.
DA COUNT
I was thinking last night of what to post for either a 55 or a count today and though there is always much to be thankful for I was feeling kind of bereft of inspiration. What few ideas I had felt forced. I got up this morning and perused the headlines. I was sad to see that American painter, Andrew Wyeth, has died. I am by no means well educated in art but I have always liked his works. I enjoy realism and portraiture so his style and subjects appeal to me in that way. He's also a son of Pennsylvania and spent his life outside of Philadelphia not terribly far from where I grew up so even when he turned his eye to landscapes and still life work it was often a vision that was familiar, just seen through an artist's eye.
I decided to flip through an online gallery of his paintings to see which one spoke to me for a 55 since it's been a long time since I wrote one inspired by a work of art. I got a little lost in the gallery, hence the lateness of this post. So many were utterly captivating but the corn whispered to me. Corn fields very much give me a feeling of being home. I love the way they change the landscape over the course of the year. Now you may really laugh at this but, I love that corn is a New World crop. It just plain belongs here (not to say it can't go anywhere else).
This all seems kind of stream of conscious I suppose but I guess it boils down to this: corn is home, Andrew Wyeth is home. The beauty of the natural world and the art of man are home for me. Home is where your soul finds rest.
I decided to flip through an online gallery of his paintings to see which one spoke to me for a 55 since it's been a long time since I wrote one inspired by a work of art. I got a little lost in the gallery, hence the lateness of this post. So many were utterly captivating but the corn whispered to me. Corn fields very much give me a feeling of being home. I love the way they change the landscape over the course of the year. Now you may really laugh at this but, I love that corn is a New World crop. It just plain belongs here (not to say it can't go anywhere else).
This all seems kind of stream of conscious I suppose but I guess it boils down to this: corn is home, Andrew Wyeth is home. The beauty of the natural world and the art of man are home for me. Home is where your soul finds rest.




