During a period when my world had become quite small, getting out for even a little while felt significant. On one of those outings, I wandered into an antique shop and found an enormous vessel overflowing with dried amaranthus, its long strands pooling and draping everywhere around the base of a large vase. Standing in front of it, I thought how beautiful it would be as a painting, wondering whether I could ever paint something like that myself.

Months later, I encountered amaranthus again at a farmer’s market, this time spilling from a fresh bouquet. I very badly misread the price. By the time I realized my mistake, I was too embarrassed to put it back, so I bought it. As I walked away, I joked into the flowers that I would be drawing them, photographing them, and eventually painting them, determined to make the most of our time together.

Amaranthus grew from those two encounters: first imagining a painting I wasn't yet sure I could make, and later carrying the inspiration home.

It remains one of my very favorite pieces.