Redtree Times

Jubilee– Now at the West End Gallery, Corning

The year of jubilee has come;
Gather the gifts of Earth with equal hand;
Henceforth ye too may share the birthright soil,
The corn, the wine, and all the harvest-home.

–Edmund Clarence Stedman, The Feast of the Harvest, 1869

The painting at the top is Jubilee. At 30″ by 48″ on canvas, it is the largest painting in my new solo exhibit, Eye in the Sky, which is now hanging at the West End Gallery in Corning. The exhibit opens this coming Friday, July 21, with an Opening Reception from 5-7 PM.

It is what I call one of my Baucis & Philemon paintings. I have retold the mythic tale, as I know it, many times here. Here is one retelling from a number of years back:

Baucis and Philemon tells the tale of a poor but happy couple who are unknowingly visited by Zeus and Hermes disguised as dusty travelers. Beggars, really. The two gods had gone door to door among their neighbors seeking hospitality and were rebuffed in every attempt, often with harsh words. Zeus became angry as door after door was slammed in his face. Finally, they came to the door of the shack of Baucis and Philemon, by far the poorest home they had yet approached. 

Upon knocking, they were greeted warmly by an elderly couple who welcomed them into their simple but clean home and treated them with what little they had in the way of food and drink. They were gracious and hospitable, seeking to give comfort to the strangers. As the night wore on, the couple, who had been serving their simple wine to the travelers from a pitcher, noticed that the pitcher stayed full even after many pours. They began to suspect that these were not mere beggars but were, in fact, gods.

They apologized to the gods for not having much to put before them then offered to catch their prized goose, which was really a pet, so that they could cook it for them. The old couple chased the goose around the shack until finally the frightened creature found sanctuary on the laps of the gods. Stroking the now safe goose, Zeus then informed them of their identities and, after complimenting on their hospitality and of the mean-spiritedness of their neighbors, told them to follow them. They climbed upon a rise and Zeus told them to look back. Where once their town had stood was nothing but water,  from a deluge that had washed away everything, including all who had insulted Zeus. From where their poor home had been, a majestic golden-roofed  temple with sparkling marble pillars rose from the receding waters.

Zeus told the couple that this was their new home and asked what wish he could grant them. They asked that they be made priests, guardians of this temple and that they should always remain together until the ends of their lives. Seeing their obvious love for each other, Zeus readily agreed. The couple lived for many more years together, reaching a prodigious age. One day they stood together and all the past moments from their life and love together flooded over them. Baucis saw leaves and limbs sprouting from Philemon and realized that the same thing was happening to her. On the plain outside the temple, they transformed into two trees, an oak and a linden, that grew from the same trunk, their limbs intertwined, eternally together.

I’ve painted a number of these pieces over the years and they always feel special to me. Maybe it’s the iconic stance of the two trees or simply the idea of such a long-lasting bond that attracts me.  I don’t know and I don’t really need to know.

The title of this piece, Jubilee, generally denotes the celebration of the anniversary of something, a marriage or reign of a monarch, often 50 years or 75 years, which are the Golden and Diamond Jubilees, respectively. It is also attached to the celebration of harvest feasts and in the Old Testament, the Jubilee was the 50-year mark when slaves were freed and debts forgiven. The word is derived from the Hebrew word jobel which translates as the ram’s horn which was blown in celebration in such times.

I get the feeling of celebration here in this painting. It might be the anniversary of the two trees or it might be a celebration of the bounty the Earth has provided. I don’t think it matters. It is the joy and jubilance (same derivation, see?) of the whole, the clarity and brightness of its colors, that makes it work for me.

Makes me happy.

Here’s song from Long John Baldry, off his 1972 album Everything Stops For Tea, which has provided me a lot of joy over the years. The song is Jubilee Cloud. I guess the clouds in this painting would be Jubilee Clouds, right?