My gift for
Jenna is
a watercolor painting I created of a daffodil. Reflecting upon the associations I have when thinking about Jenna immediately conjured images of first arriving to campus. I arrived to campus about a month after everyone else as I was apprehensive during what was still the uncertain onset of the Coronavirus. When I decided to come in October, I was kept company by the warm reception of my quad mates, Jenna being one of them. I ate dinner every night with Jenna and her friends for a few weeks after first arriving at Trinity. I thought about this idea of lightness and hope at the beginnings of things (referring to the inception of my time at Trinity and Jenna supplying kindness and an excitement for the future) and wanted to make an object which reflected it as a sort of token of my gratitude in the form of a gift. Too, I have been greatly inspired in the recent weeks by
the blossoming flowers peppered around campus, as well as the sun and warm weather which have accompanied them. These flowers, budding and growing in the springtime air, are another iteration of the concept of hope at the beginnings of things. After a long winter, spring brings a resurrection of the idea of growth, and the plants which flower all around us now are at the beginning of their lives. To evoke this idea of the flowers growing around campus, the setting which connects Jenna and I, I cut the watercolor from its background as if it was picked from the ground for her. I also attempted to create a concave shape by folding in the sides of each petal to attribute the flower a further sense of life.
When I created this object, I felt an internal release. I was playing loud music; my window was open, flooding my space and my lungs with spring-infused, fresh air, and I was painting for the first time in a long time. I do not feel entirely confident in my ability to paint outside of abstract painting often done to supplement collage. Due to this fact, coupled with the time and effort that it requires, I have, as I said, not painted in a long time. Further, even the more recent painting I have done has not come from a center of joy. Most of my collages are rather dark. However, this experience was truly one of light, happiness, and appreciation. Undergoing the known practice of painting in a newfound manner to me in this moment, I believe, really gets at the core of curiosity. It reminded me of the walk that I took and the way that, even marginally, I see the campus differently now as I traverse its paths every day. My paintbrushes and water jar are right on my desk, my watercolors in my drawer. Every day, all the materials to create something are within reach. It was a nice reminder of the capacity for reality to break from its monotony and forge something new even out of the same materials surrounding you all the time.
