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Description
I'm fascinated by language. When I hear a name like "Henbrook" I take it apart in my mind, and try to imagine the origins of that name. Sometimes an idea for a painting is just an interesting word, such as this one. The Maplesinger plays for trees. He's indifferent to elms, thinks oaks are an adequate backdrop and has never quite trusted any of the conifer family -- too furry. But let him find a struggling maple sapling in the woods, and he settles right down with a song. Despite the eerie lights, nobody is quite sure if he's magical or touched in the head. He just likes trees. The trees seem to like him, too.

Description
I'm fascinated by language. When I hear a name like "Henbrook" I take it apart in my mind, and try to imagine the origins of that name. Sometimes an idea for a painting is just an interesting word, such as this one. The Maplesinger plays for trees. He's indifferent to elms, thinks oaks are an adequate backdrop and has never quite trusted any of the conifer family -- too furry. But let him find a struggling maple sapling in the woods, and he settles right down with a song. Despite the eerie lights, nobody is quite sure if he's magical or touched in the head. He just likes trees. The trees seem to like him, too.