At Attention
There are mornings when I feel as though the world is asking too much of me before I’ve even had coffee. Emails arrive with urgency. Headlines shout. Schedules tighten around the day like a belt pulled one notch too far. On those mornings, I find myself craving something uncomplicated — something alive, joyful, and unapologetically bright.
That longing is where At Attention began.
When I started this painting, I wasn’t trying to create a realistic garden. I wasn’t interested in perfect perspective or botanical precision. I wanted energy. I wanted movement. I wanted the feeling of standing in a field of flowers so vibrant they almost seem to vibrate against one another. The blooms lean forward as if they’ve all heard their names called at once. They stand tall, alert, awake. At attention.
As I painted each flower, I realized they began to feel like personalities rather than petals. Some are bold and loud in fiery reds and oranges. Others are softer — pale pinks quietly holding their place amid the noise. None of them disappear. Even the smallest bloom demands to be seen.
I think that’s part of what this painting became about for me: presence.
Not perfection. Not order. Presence.
The flowers overlap and crowd one another, yet somehow each still maintains its individuality. Isn’t that true of people too? We move through busy lives surrounded by competing voices, responsibilities, and expectations, trying not to lose the vivid center of ourselves. Sometimes we succeed simply by continuing to bloom where we are.
The green background came almost instinctively. I layered brushstroke upon brushstroke because I wanted the backdrop to feel alive rather than passive. To me, the vertical strokes suggest rain, growth, wind, maybe even time itself moving through the canvas. The flowers interrupt that movement like moments of joy interrupt ordinary days.
What surprised me most while working on At Attention was how happy it made me. Not in a shallow way, but in a deeply physical one. Every color choice felt rebellious against dullness. Every petal felt like an insistence that beauty still deserves space, even when life becomes crowded and noisy.
There’s also something humorous about the painting to me. The flowers almost seem overly eager, as though they’re lined up waiting for inspection or hoping to be chosen first. They’re impossible to ignore. I like that. So often we’re taught to shrink ourselves, soften our colors, lower our voices. These flowers refuse.
They simply show up fully.
Maybe that’s the real meaning behind the title.
To stand at attention is to be ready. Awake. Present. Fully engaged with the moment in front of you.
Not hidden.
Not half-hearted.
Not asleep to your own life.
Just here — vivid and unapologetic.
