The first twelve were a dandelion forgeing it's way through the cracks in the pavement. Looking for a way to bloom and overcome it's position from the unlikely and arbitrary start to exist. Struggling to get noticed, while overly wistful. Scattering wishes and dreams upon the winds of uncertainty.
by Millet Jean-Francois
The next twelve were an Iris. Bight and colorful and ablaze with the unbridled potential of spring and all the eternal hope that it signifies. Proud to bloom and face the sun. Celebrating it's delicacy through all the storms it has endured. Understanding the inner beauty that comes from weathering the transformations of all those temporal youthful storms that have come to shape it.
by Bobby Padilla
The third dozen is defined by the Rose. Nurtured by the long days in the sun. Timeless in its symbolism of passion and a full heart to all those who experience it.
It's strength is precise and it's defense is thorny. Protecting what's most important, the delicate and and fragile layers of sweetness. Knowing it's place and meaning. Rooted firmly in the garden of the years, with memories of the sun and of winter's cold quilts.
by Doris Joa
The fourth dozen brings me to the Orchid. Confident with its limitations while being radiant with color and form. Temperamental to light, time and condition. Matured to the point of artistry.
by Bert Liverance
Who knows what the next twelve will bring. Hopefully I will still be here to find the simile to express where I am in my artistic journey.
Wait... Did you think I was talking about paintings or years?