While doing a little room organizing, I found this watercolor of an iris from my Alaska garden. That bulb would be covered with snow in January when I planted little iris bulbs outdoors here, gifts from a Gop at a New Year gathering.

John Berger, in his book “Bento’s Sketchbook,” explores the question in his subtitle: “How does the impulse to draw something begin?” About the iris he writes:

“Each spring when the irises begin to flower I find myself drawing them – as if obeying an order. There’s no other flower so commanding. And this may have something to do with the way they open their petals, already printed. Irises open like books. At the same time, they are the smallest, tectonic quintessence of architecture. I think of the Mosque Suleiman in Istanbul. Irises are like prophesies: simultaneously astounding and calm.”

3 thoughts on “Iris

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