true love (tree story #27)

More from chapter 2: True Love is a black & white photo with mixed media on a 24x24" canvas. There are twelve palm trees, which is a symbol for Israel, also sometimes a representation of the tree of life, which gives eternal life.

Currently available, prices are temporarily lower... email me for details.

Text:

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep a score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.

(1 Corinthians 13)

her self (tree story #7)

Chapter 2 in the original series - now on canvas - new works will come as well. This piece is 24x24" black & white photo and mixed media on canvas ($850). Available, in fact the varnish is still tacky...

Here's the original poem:

Her Self

I was born a tree,
or so they tell me.
I don't remember.
It was so long ago.
But there was a moment
of greeness, of stretching
upward, flexing my limbs,
uncurling my hands into
leafy sprouts. I watched them
grow, lengthen, broaden
as my body did too.

I remember the seed.
Translucent, double-winged,
borrowed from a dragon-fly,
to let the tiny pod twirl
downward to the open
earth. That's where my
coloring came from --
wood-shaded skin,
peat-brown hair, changeling
eyes flecked with day-moon
blue, mossy green, bronze
lights that sometimes look
like turquoise.

A tree? Yes. With fists full
of air, rain sliding down
my arms, shoulders,
ankles, back to the moist
earth with its startled grasses
upright in their importance.
There were birds that paused
on their journeys, nested
in the crook of my arm,
or on my palm,
sharing their long memories
with their young, with me.
I was born a tree.

Brigit Truex


You can see the original image here.