“Helianthus and Monarda”: Finding Reverence in Nature
On the same crisp morning that drew me to Bluestem Conservation Cemetery for the "Paint it Orange" Plein Air Paint Out Event, I found myself standing in a different corner of the property, looking in a new direction. The golden narrowleaf sunflowers were still there—my favorite color, impossible to ignore—but this time, I was captivated by something else: a majestic loblolly pine, its branches reaching upward with an almost protective grace, overlooking the field of native plants below.
The more I stood with this view, the more I began to think about what makes Bluestem such a special place. It's a conservation cemetery—a natural burial ground where native plants and wildlife thrive, and where families choose to lay their loved ones to rest within this living, growing landscape. The pairing feels almost perfect, like something that should have always existed. There's a profound peace in a place that honors both nature and human life in equal measure, where reverence flows in two directions at once.
“Helianthus and Monarda” | 6”x8” | Oil on Canvas Panel | Painted en plein air
Where Two Worlds Meet
The scientific names tell part of the story: Helianthus—the narrowleaf sunflower—and Monarda, commonly known as bee balm. These aren't just pretty flowers; they're part of an intricate ecosystem, attracting pollinators and supporting the land itself. Standing there among them, with the tall pine rising above, I felt like I was witnessing something sacred—not in a religious sense necessarily, but in the deeper sense of a place that is genuinely alive and genuinely cared for.
A traditional cemetery can feel like a final punctuation mark, a place of stillness and finality. But Bluestem feels different. It's a place of continuation, where the natural world carries on its cycles around the spaces of remembrance. That distinction moved me, and I wanted to capture it.
The view from my easel as I painted “Helianthus and Monarda”
The Painting Process
I used a similar approach to my first painting from that morning—burnt sienna underpainting followed by blocks of color and then details—but this time, I made a deliberate choice to keep the painting looser and less detailed. There's something about letting brushstrokes show, about not rendering every flower or leaf, that feels appropriate for capturing the essence of a place rather than a literal documentation of it.
The looser handling also reflects the painterly approach I've been enjoying more in my recent work. By stepping back from complete detail, I found I could capture the feeling of being there—the dappled light filtering through the trees, the way the flowers glow against the darker foliage, the sense of peaceful abundance—more effectively than if I'd meticulously rendered every element.
A Place of Meaning
What strikes me most as I look back on this painting is how it documents a specific moment in a very particular place, but also something more universal. Bluestem is a beautiful example of how human needs and environmental stewardship can coexist, even enhance each other. It's a place where the living landscape becomes a living memorial.
If you ever find yourself in the Hurdle Mills area, I'd encourage you to visit. Walk among the native plants, sit under the tall pines, and feel the peace that comes from being in a space that honors both nature and remembrance. It's a reminder that the most meaningful places are often those where we find harmony between human needs and the natural world.
The original piece is available here. Fine art prints are available here.
Almost finished! Just have to add the clouds and touch up the tree trunk!
