To me, when I think of the word "whimsy", I imagine a frail branch that extends from a very strong tree. Even though the branch is attached to something very strong, even the slightest wind can sometimes make it feel as though it will break off at any moment, but it won't.
That's not the definition of the word, but that's what it made me think of. To me, its like a combination of the words flimsy and wind and wit and will.
I painted this tonight, not thinking about much of anything. Often I'll paint and then decide what it means to me afterward.
Sometimes I go down to the market and buy daisies. Some people think that they are weeds, but I think they are pretty. And sometimes I feel like I shouldn't have them in a vase on my kitchen table -- that they should have been left to grow in a field and live out their lives in a more natural way -- not as some pretty thing in my apartment, only to be thrown in the green bin two weeks later.
This painting makes me think of all the beautiful things that we destroy in order to create other things that aren't so beautiful, but we think that we need them -- more suburbs, more highways, more bridges, more golf courses, more parking lots. More, more, more. Lets just destroy all the beautiful things and look at what they used to be in magazines.