The Tree
This is a one-of-a-kind mixed media painting on a 36x48 canvas. The edges of the canvas are painted black. The canvas is wired and ready to hang. Free shipping in the continental USA.
In our driveway stands the second largest elm tree in Massachusetts. It’s more than just a tree — it’s a landmark, a witness, a presence. Strangers pause on the sidewalk to admire it. The state measures it. My husband worries it might fall on the house. My five-year-old knows it as our emergency meeting spot.
To us, it’s ordinary and extraordinary — rooted in everyday life and layered with myth. It holds our routines, our fears, our safety plans, and our awe.
In this piece, The Tree becomes a stand-in for the roles we carry as caregivers — towering, sheltering, sometimes fragile, always watching. Like motherhood itself, it is both monumental and unseen until you stop and look up.
This is a one-of-a-kind mixed media painting on a 36x48 canvas. The edges of the canvas are painted black. The canvas is wired and ready to hang. Free shipping in the continental USA.
In our driveway stands the second largest elm tree in Massachusetts. It’s more than just a tree — it’s a landmark, a witness, a presence. Strangers pause on the sidewalk to admire it. The state measures it. My husband worries it might fall on the house. My five-year-old knows it as our emergency meeting spot.
To us, it’s ordinary and extraordinary — rooted in everyday life and layered with myth. It holds our routines, our fears, our safety plans, and our awe.
In this piece, The Tree becomes a stand-in for the roles we carry as caregivers — towering, sheltering, sometimes fragile, always watching. Like motherhood itself, it is both monumental and unseen until you stop and look up.
This is a one-of-a-kind mixed media painting on a 36x48 canvas. The edges of the canvas are painted black. The canvas is wired and ready to hang. Free shipping in the continental USA.
In our driveway stands the second largest elm tree in Massachusetts. It’s more than just a tree — it’s a landmark, a witness, a presence. Strangers pause on the sidewalk to admire it. The state measures it. My husband worries it might fall on the house. My five-year-old knows it as our emergency meeting spot.
To us, it’s ordinary and extraordinary — rooted in everyday life and layered with myth. It holds our routines, our fears, our safety plans, and our awe.
In this piece, The Tree becomes a stand-in for the roles we carry as caregivers — towering, sheltering, sometimes fragile, always watching. Like motherhood itself, it is both monumental and unseen until you stop and look up.
