I’ve had it in my mind for some time that I would paint a passionflower. These vines grow well here in Seattle and I see them often while walking my dog around town. Every time I see one I think back to being very young - maybe 6 yrs. old - and on a trip to the garden nursery with my parents. I found a passionflower blossom on the ground. I thought that someone left this cool plastic flower toy on the ground, so I brought it to my parents to return to the nursery staff. I hoped they would let me keep this lost treasure; I wanted to keep it really, really badly.
Not only was the flower not fake, but my dad (because he’s sweet and likes to buy me nice things) bought a passionflower vine and planted it on a trellis in the backyard of our house in Texas. Unfortunately, I don’t have any other specific memories other than the vivid one of me at the nursery wanting that toy flower. A huge vine of those flowers was to grow in my own backyard, but I don’t remember feeling wonder or even appreciation for it. Maybe I did spend time with that vine, but I doubt it. I think I may be the type of person that places more weight on what is out of reach. This painting is a portrait of the ghost of that beautiful flower I found on the ground so long ago.