Black Head, Monhegan
"The Fragile That Overcomes"
This painting is about resilience—the kind that doesn’t roar, but quietly endures. It started with the sea roses. They caught my eye, bright and delicate, standing against the raw power of Monhegan Island’s Blackhead Point. An ominous Nor’easter was forming, the sea beginning to churn, the wind shifting. The storm was inevitable.
These sea roses, so fragile, were right in the path of it all. Flowers like these usually end up in a vase, admired in the safety of a home. But here, they were exposed—pressed between the jagged rocks and the swelling ocean, threatened from all sides. Would they make it? Would they be torn away, or would they hold on?
That question is bigger than the sea roses. It’s about all of us. We’ve all felt small, fragile, convinced we’d be crushed by what looms around us. We admire others who persevere, but doubt our own ability to stand firm when the storm comes.
That’s why I painted this. The roses don’t know their own strength, yet after the storm passes, they’ll still be there—bright, proud, and alive. That’s resilience. That’s overcoming.
I chose pastel for this piece because, like the subject, it’s delicate but capable of creating something lasting. The softness of the medium contrasts with the weight of the scene, just as the sea roses stand against the monumental forces around them.
This isn’t just a painting; it’s a reflection of a truth we all need to remember. Strength isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s just standing your ground when everything tells you that you can’t.
This painting is about resilience—the kind that doesn’t roar, but quietly endures. It started with the sea roses. They caught my eye, bright and delicate, standing against the raw power of Monhegan Island’s Blackhead Point. An ominous Nor’easter was forming, the sea beginning to churn, the wind shifting. The storm was inevitable.
These sea roses, so fragile, were right in the path of it all. Flowers like these usually end up in a vase, admired in the safety of a home. But here, they were exposed—pressed between the jagged rocks and the swelling ocean, threatened from all sides. Would they make it? Would they be torn away, or would they hold on?
That question is bigger than the sea roses. It’s about all of us. We’ve all felt small, fragile, convinced we’d be crushed by what looms around us. We admire others who persevere, but doubt our own ability to stand firm when the storm comes.
That’s why I painted this. The roses don’t know their own strength, yet after the storm passes, they’ll still be there—bright, proud, and alive. That’s resilience. That’s overcoming.
I chose pastel for this piece because, like the subject, it’s delicate but capable of creating something lasting. The softness of the medium contrasts with the weight of the scene, just as the sea roses stand against the monumental forces around them.
This isn’t just a painting; it’s a reflection of a truth we all need to remember. Strength isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s just standing your ground when everything tells you that you can’t.