There sits a barn upon a hill in Sherwood, Oregon. I imagine as long as it has been sitting there, it must have endured years of Northwest winter storms and scalding summer heat. I have only begun to take notice of it as I speed by to catch a painting on the other side of the hill. And while I see many barns along my travels, I have taken closer note of a creeping urban boundary that continues to replace farming life, as well as the barn's continuous repair, and heir-hands who choose more hopeful futures.
Upon the sale of my grandparents' farm, I have been giving deeper thought of these old structures and their potential demise. To find beauty in such a structure takes time...and perhaps a feeling of regret. Sadly, I am not in a position to take on a farmer's lifestyle as my Grandparent's generation. I chose the artist's life...or did it choose me?
- Subject Matter: Landscape