The first time I saw a Poppy flower, it was on the side of a road in Italy. I remember admiring it with awe, touching its delicate, paper thin petals. The image of this flower, flame red, growing up out of dirt, rock and sand, has haunted for years, mainly I think for its beauty and supposed resilience. In my creative practice, I dubbed the Poppy as the Flowers of Memories, and paint them often, as they appear in my dreams.
For shipping, please select Post Cards (€8).
Kindly,
Jocelyn
The first time I saw a Poppy flower, it was on the side of a road in Italy. I remember admiring it with awe, touching its delicate, paper thin petals. The image of this flower, flame red, growing up out of dirt, rock and sand, has haunted for years, mainly I think for its beauty and supposed resilience. In my creative practice, I dubbed the Poppy as the Flowers of Memories, and paint them often, as they appear in my dreams.
For shipping, please select Post Cards (€8).
Kindly,
Jocelyn
