My fourth rose, so exciting. The first rose was abstract (my very first painting, “First Kiss” on this website), the second you’ll never see, not so good, the third I gave to my mother and it was stolen 15 years later off her bedroom wall while she was in the hospital (the only thing stolen), and that brings us back to Bob Dylan and one of my favorite roses, which as it turns out, also had an adventurous life on the road. In my bio, I talk about my friend Cindy who made the bold artistic move of renting my first art studio for me without my knowing until she handed me the keys. This was in Wilton, New Hampshire. Then three years later, when we moved back to Northern California, Cindy kinda-sorta borrowed this rose, I kinda-sorta figured forever and deservingly so. Then, in 2012, Cindy did a big downsize and drove from Florida to see me, bring the painting with her. What a surprise! As a new artist, the sheer excitement of watching this big blue-white rose fill the canvas was indescribable. Here it is today, still crazy after all these years (and fresh as a daisy considering its shelf life of over 500 years) (Forgive me, I’m really mixing my song and flower metaphors here.) This intense statement piece is beautifully framed in a simple white frame and arrives ready to hang.