Elm and Elderberry

30” X 15” X 1.5”

Acrylic on Canvas

Titles for my paintings often come from a person, place, or thing. In the case of this tall, narrow work, the warm, muted color palette, intricate patterns, and epic shapes gave inspiration in titling the piece. The long sweeping lines, dark reds and greenish yellows of the composition led me to write this memorable narrative. A story that took me back to my childhood and showed me how the title painting could be intertwined… at least in my mind.

My parents were never big drinkers, at least not when I knew them. It seemed like they had lived a whole other life before I was born. I remember them having a glass of wine or champagne to ring in the new year or toast their wedding anniversary. I can also recall them having an ice-cold beer on a hot summer day a time or two. And once my dad even talked about making elderberry wine.

In the early days on Nelson Avenue, a large elm tree was growing in the side yard across the street from us. Winds from the west would blow its seeds onto our quarter acre lot. For years, when I was a small boy, my dad would do his best to keep the seeds from germinating and sprouting into trees, while he cursed the neighbors’ names under his breath, or out loud. “If you let one shoot grow,” he would say, “You’ll soon have a grove of elm everywhere!” He feared the scraggly elm would take over and choke out the other plants, flowers, and especially his vegetable garden and fruit trees that he cultivated on the back half of our property.

As he got older and neared retirement age, the elm infestation became too much for him, and he began letting the elm grow. He groomed and conditioned them into hedge-like fences and windbreakers. My dad was never one to back down from a fight, not to anyone or anything. But those elm seeds got the best of him. They came, they saw, they sprouted… and you know, I never did see my dad make that elderberry wine, let alone drink any.